Organized Chaos
by AlaskanAppaloosa
Summary: What if Lily and James Potter went to Hogwarts with Harry... as schoolmates? Follow the adventures of the Marauders and the Harry Potter trio as they battle Death Eaters, final exams, crazy Muggle cat ladies, and a certain toad-faced woman with a passion for pink. Oh, and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, of course. Lighthearted silliness to brighten your day! Image: TheShabbyCreekCottage
1. Organized Chaos- Prologue

**Organized Chaos: A Harry Potter Adventure**

 **Prologue**

* * *

"Albus, Albus, you'll never guess what I found!"

The boy turned to see his best friend pelting towards him, waving something high above his head in triumph; his running footsteps echoed loudly down the empty corridor as his sneakers slapped against the marble floor.

"Scorpius, this better be good," the boy moaned. "My dad's almost done, and we're going to leave any minute."

"It is!" Scorpius's pale grey eyes sparkled with excitement as he thrust the object he held into his friend's hands. "Look!"

Albus stared at the object in his palm in disbelief. "Dude, where did you _find_ this?!"

Scorpius held out a halting finger, leaning over as he gasped for breath. He finally looked up, and breathed, "Whew! I was all over the Ministry looking for you, and then I got stuck in the elevator with your grandmother —apparently she'd gone to visit your aunt Hermione too, but I don't think it was for business, I saw her carrying a tote bag and she smelled like freshly-baked cookies—"

Albus threw up his arms in exasperation. "Just get to the point already!"

Scorpius nodded, gulping in another breath. "Right. Anyway, the point is, I got lost and ended up in the basement, where I ran into the garbage bin. And wouldn't you know," He snatched the object from Albus and held it aloft, " _this_ was right there on the top, just waiting there for me!

"And not just one, but hundreds and hundreds of them, just thrown together in a pile! This was the only intact one, though," He glanced at the object in his hand. "The others were all smashed to bits. They must be there from when your dad was a kid, when they were all destroyed during the Battle of the Department of Mysteries."

Albus nodded numbly, hardly able to believe his eyes. "Scorpius…" he began slowly, "Do you know what this means?"

"We don't have to steal the one from your Aunt Hermione's office anymore!" Scorpius punched the air.

"Yes! This just made our plan a whole lot easier!" Suddenly fervent with excitement, Albus took the object from his friend once again. He studied it closely. "Although… it looks a bit beat-up… are you sure it's safe to use?"

Scorpius's radiant face fell. "Dunno." He eyed the object warily. "Maybe we should test it out by going back… oh… just a couple hours? That way if we get stuck, it won't be too bad."

Albus grinned at his friend. "Scorpius, you're a genius."

Scorpius grinned back. "Oh! Well, thanks!"

Fingers trembling with anticipation, the two boys slipped the thin chain over both of their heads. Albus held the dial.

"You think three turns should do it?" He glanced up at his friend questioningly.

"According to my research, each turn takes us back approximately one hour," Scorpius nodded. "But I think two turns is about right, just to be safe."

"Right." Albus held his breath. "Ready?"

Scorpius gave a nervous little hop. "Ready."

Slowly, carefully, Albus flipped the dial over twice.

Nothing happened.

The two boys looked at each other.

"Try it again," Scorpius suggested, biting his lip.

Albus turned the dial over two times again.

Still nothing happened.

Beginning to feel a bit frustrated, Albus began to flip the dial again, but this time in both directions. The device gave a feeble little shudder… and went still.

Thoroughly annoyed now, Albus flicked the dial so that it spun like crazy; tiny spots of light reflected off of it from the glowing lamps above, dancing on the walls and ceiling. The device went into a series of violent convulsions, sputtering a little, before slowing to go completely once more.

A moth flew into the lamp above and electrocuted itself with a dull _plink_ ; other than that, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

"Albus, stop." Scorpius caught his friend's hand before he angrily began having another go. "I'm sorry. We should have realized that it probably wouldn't work."

"Yeah, but I was _hoping_ …" Albus muttered through gritted teeth. He sighed, and took the chain from around his neck. "Back to square one again, I guess."

"Yeah." Disappointed, Scorpius removed it from his neck as well and closed his fist around it. "Well, I guess I'll be taking it back to the garbage heap, then, where it belongs."

"Albus!" A voice called from the stairs, "You down here? Time to go home!"

"My dad," Albus mumbled. "I gotta go now."

"I should probably find mine, too," Scorpius said dejectedly.

"Thanks for trying anyway," Albus tried to put on a cheerful face for his friend, as Scorpius seemed utterly miserable. "It was just too good to be true."

"Should have known that a dingy old time-turner would be in the garbage for a reason." Scorpius said dully. "See you."

"See you."

Albus turned around to run up the stairs after his dad, while Scorpius shoved the time-turner in his pocket ruefully.

"A lot of good _you_ did," he muttered. "Just a piece of useless junk."

He didn't know then the depth of those words, or how wrong they were. The time-turner was truly broken beyond repair, but not ineffective. Yes, there was a reason why it had been in the garbage, but not because of its uselessness.

Scorpius had yet to discover that the broken time-turner had indeed worked, or the enormity of what he and Albus had just done.

* * *

 **Greetings all, I am so excited to welcome you to Organized Chaos! Obviously, I don't own any of these lovely characters or places, but I'm grateful for the opportunity to create my own unique story from them. Most of this story was created by me and my sisters during some boring weekend nights, so be sure to let us know how our imaginations affect you! Expect spoilers for all of the Harry Potter books, including _the Cursed Child._**

 **Also, this prologue may be a little confusing if you've never read _Harry Potter and the Curse Child_ (which I actually don't really recommend...To each their own). The good news is- you don't have to! This is just a lousy attempt on my part to add a bit of logic to the craziness in this story. All you really need to know is... time is really messed up. Duh. **

**-Alaskan Appaloosa :)**


	2. Part 1--Chapter 1: The Hogwarts Express

**Organized Chaos**

 **Part 1**

 **Chapter 1: The Hogwarts Express**

* * *

The scarlet steam engine hummed softly to itself as it clattered over the miles of track between Platform 9 ¾ and Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Harry Potter sat with his face pressed against the glass of the window, listening.

Listening to Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger arguing.

"I'm sorry, okay?"

"You wouldn't have to _be_ sorry, if you hadn't done it in the first place!"

"All right! I swear I'll never _ever_ eat Chocolate Frogs around your school tie again! Happy?"

"No! Look at the state of my tie!"

"Why can't you just _Scourgify_ it?" Harry mumbled wearily, without turning from watching a field of peacefully grazing cattle go by.

"Why—yes—of course I can!" Hermione was insulted. "But that's hardly the point! The point is, Ronald was being careless with his sweets around someone else's things, and now he's ended up ruining them!"

"IT ISN'T RUINED, HERMIONE!" Ron roared. His usual plethora of freckles was nearly invisible underneath the red flush that spread from his neck to his ears. "YOU CAN FIX IT WITH AN EENSY BIT OF MAGIC!"

"That's not the point!" Hermione shrieked; her brown hair was bushed out twice its normal size. "The point is—"

"All right!" Harry spun around from the window. "Both of you, just _stop!_ I don't care who did what, just stop, okay?"

At this moment, the compartment door was slid open by a girl with long, wavy red hair and bright, emerald-green eyes. "Wow, am I interrupting something?" She said sarcastically. "You know we can hear you in the next car, right?"

"Um…" Harry pushed his glasses further up his nose uncomfortably.

"I didn't come here about that though," The girl waved a hand impatiently. "This boy, Neville, has lost his toad, and I'm trying to help him look for it."

Suddenly, they recognized who was standing behind the girl, timidly fidgeting with his Gryffindor tie: Neville Longbottom. Short, with a timid round face and permanent anxious expression, Neville was always losing his pet toad, Trevor.

Neville's eyes darted around the compartment desperately. "If I don't find him, my Gran's going to kill me."

"Don't worry, Neville!" Hermione immediately jumped up from her bench. "I'll help you look for him."

"Will you? Oh thank you, Hermione! You're a lifesaver." Neville gave a sigh of relief.

Hermione nodded graciously as she followed the red-haired girl and Neville out the compartment door, as though it were simply her duty as a very nice person to assist Neville. But Harry also had a strong suspicion that she wanted to be as far away from Ron as possible at the moment. It was just as well; best friends though they were, Harry didn't think he could take another minute of the two's bickering.

Ron seemed relieved to see the back of Hermione as well. He sank back onto the plush seat with a sigh. He didn't stay there long, however, popping back up and peering out the glass door curiously. "Who's that red-haired girl? I've never seen her before."

"Dunno," Harry said. "She must not be in our year."

"She looks just about our age, though," Ron continued to stare out the compartment door after the disappearing figures. "Whatever year she is, she's a looker, that's for sure." He said, a bit dreamily.

Harry did have to agree that the girl had a very nice face, and those long, wavy locks of rich auburn weren't too bad to look at, either. "I wonder how come we've never seen her before," he murmured.

Ron slid open the compartment door, but before he was able to step out into the main corridor, a bright flash of light erupted in his face, blinding him and giving Harry a nauseating headache. The source, a large flashbulb camera, was lowered to reveal the culprit's face—a small, mousy-haired boy was struggling to hold the bulky instrument at eyelevel, as it was apparently a bit too heavy for his tiny frame.

"Oh boy!" The boy squeaked, "So the rumors are true, then! The famous Harry Potter _is_ in this compartment! How are you, Harry, I've read all about you—I've always wanted to meet you—I'm Colin Creevey!"

The boy leapt across the compartment floor, and before Harry could quite comprehend what was happening, began pumping his arm up and down energetically. "An honor, really—I've always—you're like my hero!"

It was hard for Harry to think while his head was being snapped back and forth. "Um… hi?"

"Agh! Harry Potter said hi to me!" Colin shrieked. "Can I get a picture with you?"

"Uhhh… I don't see why you would want one."

"Oh come on, you're too modest for your own good sometimes, Harry!" Suddenly Ron had taken the camera from the small boy with a wink. "Go on, I'll take it for you."

"Really? Wow, thanks!" Colin bounced down onto the seat cushion beside Harry in excitement.

* * *

James Potter slouched in his seat, lazily sucking on the remnants of a Sugar Quill. His best mate, Sirius Black, lay across the entirety of the bench across from him, blowing at his curly black hair; it kept sliding into his eyes, but he was too lazy to brush it out of the way with his hand.

"The Hogwarts Express is always the worst part about Hogwarts," James grouched. "We're so close to school I can almost taste it, but the fun can't start until we get to the castle."

"The trip will be over soon enough," His other friend, Remus Lupin, reassured him, without looking up from his book. "We should be nearly there."

"Are you sure it isn't just the Sugar Quill you're tasting?" Sirius quipped carelessly, raising one finger to explore a small hole in the compartment wall beside his head.

"Seriously though, how many of those have you had on the way here?" Remus's sky-blue eyes appeared briefly above his book as he peered at James. "If you eat too many more, you're going to make yourself sick."

James snorted. "Sirius's middle name isn't Lee."

"What?" This time, Remus's book dropped to reveal the entirety of his scarred face.

"I _said_ —"

"Yeah, but what does that even mean?"

"I was _trying_ to make a joke," James said irritably, biting into the rest of the Sugar Quill with a sharp _crack_. "You said 'seriously', and I said, 'Sirius's middle name isn't Lee'. Sirius…Lee. Seriously. Get it? Oh, never mind."

"Hardy-har-har." Sirius huffed absently.

Remus stared at the open book in his lap, thinking hard. "Sirius…Lee. Seriously." He glanced up at James in disgust. "That's a terrible pun."

"I _know_." James crunched the Sugar Quill in his mouth loudly, annoyed.

Suddenly, the compartment door was thrust open, and Lily Evans poked her head in.

James scrambled to sit up, nearly choking on the remains of the Sugar Quill. Could it be? Could it be that this was the year the fiery girl had finally decided to quit scorning his very existence, and to return his feelings for her?

His daydreams were dashed almost immediately, however, by the usual look of loathing on her face as she turned to him. "Shut up." She snapped, as he opened his mouth to speak. "I'm only in here because Neville's lost his toad, and I'm helping him look for it."

"Who's Neville?" The question popped out before he could stop it.

" _That's_ Neville," Lily jabbed a forefinger at the fidgeting boy standing behind her; the boy seemed to shrink when James turned to look at him, as though he'd like nothing better than to disappear like his toad.

"We only want to know if you've seen a toad," Another student James didn't recognize put in primly, stepping forward to stand beside Lily. She had bushy brown hair and rather large front teeth.

"Nope." Sirius said to the ceiling, without bothering to get up to look at the others.

"Fine. That's all we needed to know," Lily said curtly, stepping back.

"If we do find a toad, we'll let you know," Remus called hastily, before she shut the door.

"Thank you." With the click of the door latch falling into place once again, she was gone.

James flopped back down onto the plush bench with a sigh.

"You're never going to get her," Sirius remarked.

"Oh, shut up."

"Might as well give it up." Sirius yawned. "But don't get so down, there are lots of prettier girls in the school."

James huffed and reached for another Sugar Quill. A flash of light down the corridor caught his eye.

"What was that?"

"What was what." Sirius let his arm fall limply to his chest.

"That flash of light. Look, there it goes again!" James jumped up and thrust his head out of the compartment eagerly. "Maybe somebody's hexing someone."

"On the train?" Remus was buried in his book again. "But that's against school rules."

James grinned. He knew. "Come on, let's go watch!"

Sirius raised his head. "And get involved?"

James rolled his eyes. "Of course!"

"I'm in." Swinging his legs over to hop to his feet, Sirius was at his side in a second. "Maybe we can set a record for most detentions on the first day of school."

"That's not a good thing, you know." Remus turned a page.

"Oh, quit being such a goody-two-shoes, Remus." James rapped his friend on the head with his wand.

"Ow. I'm not…" Remus protested, rubbing the top of his head, but the two pushed past him.

"Come _on_ , Moony!"

* * *

Harry blinked hard, trying but failing miserably to ward away the yellow spots dancing at the edge of his vision. He was aware that Colin was shaking his hand again.

"Thanks so much! Really appreciate it, wait 'til I show my dad! I'm going to develop this and hang in up in my room! Right over my bed!"

Another flash of light, and again Harry recoiled in pain. Eyes watering, he reached out blindly. "Hey, enough of the pictures, all right? You've taken like two hundred already."

"Okay!" Colin chirped brightly. "See you at the Sorting Ceremony, Harry! Hope I get in Gryffindor like you!"

Harry heard the compartment door open and shut. He sat down. "I hope he doesn't," he moaned.

"You good?" Ron's face came into focus in front of him, grinning.

"I think I'm going to throw up," Harry said through his teeth.

"Ha, ha!"

The compartment door was flung open with a loud _bang,_ making Harry jump. "The Marauders have _arrived!_ " A new voice announced with a flourish. "All right, what seems to be the problem here? Where's the hexing?"

"Hexing?" Harry glanced up irritably; he wasn't in the mood for any more visitors at the moment. "There isn't any—" He stopped.

And blinked.

And blinked again, just to make sure.

Hurriedly, he yanked off his glasses, polished them, and shoved them back onto his face. He had thought for sure… but it couldn't be… it must have been a trick of light…

Then he heard Ron whistle. "Blimey. They're twins!"

Standing there in the doorway, looking just as shocked as he felt, was his mirror image.

* * *

 **Comments are greatly appreciated! -Alaskan Appaloosa**


	3. Part 1--Chapter 2: The Two Potters

**Organized Chaos**

 **Part 1**

 **Chapter 2: The Two Potters**

* * *

Harry saw at once that the boy standing in front of him was not _exactly_ his mirror image. The stranger's nose was slightly longer than Harry's, and his eyes were a rich hazel instead of Harry's bright green. Even so, they both had the same scrawny frame, wild black hair, and round-rimmed glasses pushed up the bridge of their nose. And though it was impossible to tell at the moment, Harry thought they stood at about the same height as well.

"Well, James, it seems you've got some explaining to do to me and Moony," a voice remarked coolly, and Harry suddenly noticed the two boys standing behind the stranger. The one who had spoken was leaning against the doorframe casually; he had a handsome, arrogant face, and a head of curly black hair that fell into his eyes.

"I've never seen this kid before in my life, Sirius, I swear!" The first boy turned to his friends wildly.

"Sure."

"I believe him," a third boy said quietly. His hair was a light, sandy brown, but curiously streaked with grey. Also curious were the numerous scars that lined his face and neck; when he brought his hands out of his robes, Harry saw that they also were crisscrossed with angry red lines. "Prongs looks just as shocked by all this as we are."

The first boy nodded vigorously, and turned back to Harry, eyes suddenly narrowing. "Who _are_ you?"

"H-Harry Potter," Harry stammered, caught off guard.

At his name, however, all three of the boys' eyes widened.

"Still believe him _now_ , Remus?" The boy called Sirius turned to the grey-haired boy in exasperation.

"I—uh—I—" Remus spluttered, at a loss for words.

"What is it?" Harry demanded. "What's wrong with my name?"

"Well you see, Mr. Harry Potter," Sirius drawled, "This here beside me," He gestured to his friend, "is Mr. James… _Potter_."

"What? But that's my _dad's_ name!" Harry breathed.

"Really?" Even Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Whoa. Freaky."

"Wow!" There was a bright flash of light. Colin Creevey squirmed his way between James and Sirius and stood with his camera aloft. "Are you Harry Potter's brother? Nice to meet you, I'm Colin Creevey! Can I take a picture of you two together?"

"What? No!" James exclaimed, glaring at the small boy. "We are not brothers, we're not even related!"

"Um…" Remus began, but James silenced him with a look.

"There _are_ an awful lot of Potters in the world," Ron said fairly. "You could easily be related…" As James's intense stare turned on him, he paled a little and added weakly, "…Very distantly, though…"

Harry didn't know what the other boy's problem was. Why did the thought of him and Harry being related make him so angry? Harry himself found it intriguing, especially since James shared the same name as his late father. What were the chances, Harry wondered?

 _Life throws you some pretty weird—not to mention a bit disturbing—coincidences sometimes,_ he mused.

Suddenly, the three boys in the doorway were shoved aside as Hermione pushed her way back into the compartment. "Harry! Ron! We're almost to Hogwarts; you had better have your robes on already!"

Seeing that they did not, she added crossly, "Honestly, I leave for five minutes and you two don't know how to get dressed for school? What a—good gracious! Harry, I didn't know you had a twin!"

"We are _not_ twins!" James insisted heatedly, "And I wish everyone would stop saying we are!"

Poor Hermione was denied an explanation, however; at that moment, there was an ear-splitting scream.

"HAAAAAAARRRRYYYYYYYY!"

"Crikey, someone's being murdered!" Ron exclaimed, his face as white as a sheet.

Harry paled as well. He had recognized that voice. But it couldn't be. It just couldn't.

"HAAAAAAARRRRRRYYYYYY!"

"Out of my way!" Hermione barreled her way past the boys at the door. "We must alert a teacher at once!"

There was a scramble at the door as everyone tried to get out at once; in the confusion, Remus tripped over Colin, who knocked into Ron, who fell against Harry, bowling him over out into the corridor, where he landed flat on his stomach. He was forced to roll over to the side in order to avoid being crushed by an oncoming wave of frightened and curious students leaving their individual compartments in confusion.

"Crikey, did you hear that scream?"

"What's going on?"

"Sounded like someone about to get their head chopped off."

"Scared me straight out of my wits, it did! Look at these goose-pimples on me arm!"

"Blimey, what's this guy doing lying on the floor?"

"Is he dead?"

"Dunno… he's not moving… maybe I should turn him over…"

"I'm not dead!" Harry yelled.

"So you aren't, so you aren't," the sixth-year observed.

The students were crowded around Harry, completely surrounding him, but through their legs, he had a full view of the corridor.

A full view of the person running down the corridor towards Harry.

All three hundred pounds of him.

 _"Dudley?!"_

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! The chapters I post will be longer from here out. Don't forget to let me know what you think so far! -Alaskan Appaloosa**


	4. Part 1--Chapter 3: Hogwarts

**Organized Chaos**

 **Part One**

 **Chapter 3: Hogwarts**

* * *

By a considerable amount of pushing and shoving, James was able to make it out of the tight knot of students packed into the corridor.

"Budge up, will you?"

"Ow, that was my toe!" A third year complained.

"Don't put your toe under my foot, then!" James retorted. Geez. People these days.

Finally making it out into the open corridor at last, James breathed fresh air again.

"Harry! I knew it, I just knew it was you!" James turned to see an enormous boy waddling towards him at top speed. "Take me back, right now, or—or—or I'll tell my Mum and Da!" the boy wailed.

"Take you back _where_?" James sniffed contemptuously. The boy was sniveling uncontrollably, glancing around in a panic, and looked to be on the verge of a violent display of tears.

"Back home!" The boy bawled. "If this is your idea of some stupid joke… Take me back, right now, or I'm going to call the police, the—the minute I find a telephone!" He waved his pudgy arms wildly.

"Telephone?" James sneered. "What is that?"

Who _was_ this kid, anyway?

"DON'T PRETEND YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT A TELEPHONE IS, HARRY!" the boy roared. "AND I'M GOING TO TELL MUM AND DA WHAT YOU _REALLY_ DO AT YOUR SO-CALLED SCHOOL—IT ISN'T A SCHOOL, IT'S A—A—A KIDNAPPING AGENCY!"

James heard a weary sigh from inside the circle of students, and watched as Harry crawled out through a fifth-year's legs. "That's not Harry, _I_ am."

"Two? There are two of you?" The fat boy's eyes grew to the size of saucers in horror.

Harry just sighed again. "Dudley, what are you doing here." he asked bluntly.

"You tell _me!_ " Dudley wailed. "Send me back home, now!"

"Well Big D, I can assure you that I _certainly_ had nothing to do with this." Harry groaned. "The sooner you leave, the better."

"SO SEND ME HOME ALREADY!" Dudley looked close to a full nervous breakdown; his piggy little eyes rolled in terror, and his lip was trembling violently.

Without warning, bright red fireworks appeared suddenly above his head, exploding with a thunderous crack. Several kids screamed, and everyone dropped to the ground. Dudley, however, stood staring up at the explosions, swaying a little as he stood; the boy's eyes rolled back into his head, and he fell over in a dead faint.

It was at this moment that the teachers arrived, dragged along by the bushy-haired girl James had seen earlier. "It was around here somewhere, Professors! It sounded as though the scream came from—" Seeing everyone on the floor, she gave a little squeak. "Good gracious! What happened?! Am I too late?"

Harry got to his feet gingerly. "I don't think anybody's been hurt, Hermione," he said. He eyed the smoke drifting through the corridor; it was all that remained of the explosion just a few seconds ago.

"Must have been somebody's idea of a sick joke," a seventh-year spat, helping a trembling first-year to her feet.

"But the scream…" Hermione said faintly.

"That would be Dudley's doing." Harry pointed to the unconscious lump lying on the floor; Dudley's face had the same color and texture as pale putty.

"Dudley?" Hermione repeated.

"Yeah, he's my cousin. You know, the one whose favorite pastimes are eating and bullying me?"

"But Harry, I thought… I thought you said your cousin…"

"…Was a Muggle, yeah. Yeah, I did." Harry exhaled and glanced at his cousin, shaking his head in disbelief.

"That child is a Muggle?" the Trolley Witch breathed, placing a hand to her heart. "Oh dear. Oh dear, dear me."

James laughed. "No way. That's impossible."

"Muggles aren't supposed to be able to see the Hogwarts Express," Remus put in timidly, stepping out of the crowd to stand beside James.

"Exactly, much less ride it!" James threw up his hands.

"Oh trust me, he _is_ a Muggle," Harry said fervently, "He and my aunt and uncle are the Muggly-est a Muggle can be. They absolutely _hate_ magic."

 _Then how did he get on the train?_ That was unspoken question spinning inside everyone's minds.

There was a sudden jolt and a piercing whistle; the train had come to a halt. James hurried over to the window—

–And there it was. Nestled high above the rocky landscape surrounding it, the castle perched like a regal king, patiently awaiting its subjects to enter into its gates. Each tall, spiked peaks was bathed in moonlight; every window shone with a warm orange glow. The surface of the lake glittered as some unknown creature surfaced, gliding gracefully back into the depths as quickly as it had appeared. A single owl lifted off from the rooftop, circling on silent wings for a few moments before disappearing into the owlery on the far side of the building. James felt a thrill of excitement. It was adventure. It was magic.

It was Hogwarts.

"We're here," James whispered into the glass of the window. He turned to his friends, grinning widely. "We're here!"

Sirius laughed. "Let's hurry up and get off this train before _another_ Muggle randomly pops up, or before James discovers he's a triplet."

Oh. _That_. James wasn't going to let his scrawny double get him down, however. He had big plans for this year.

"Okay, Padfoot." Sirius raised his eyebrows to show that he was listening. "Remember that spell we found while you were at my house during the summer? Who should we try it on first?"

"Dunno." Sirius blew his hair out of his eyes thoughtfully. "Snivellus would be my first choice, but he has yet to show his ugly face."

"Ooh, right." James rubbed his hands together in anticipation. He couldn't wait to see the look on little greasy-haired Snivellus's face.

"You found a new spell?" Remus shoved his book back into his bag and reached for his trunk.

"Yeah, and just wait 'til you see it, Moony," James said gleefully. "It's the best one we've found yet."

"Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" A voice called from outside.

"Hagrid," James suddenly grinned.

"Oooh, that's me!" Colin Creevey squeaked excitedly. "I'm a first-year!" Hauling his trunk, which was nearly as large as he was, behind him, he hurried to the door.

James and Sirius gathered their things, and waited with Remus in the long line of students hurrying to get off the train. As they stepped off the platform, they were greeted warmly by a giant man holding a swinging lantern.

"Well if it isn't those terrible Marauders!" Hagrid exclaimed, gathering them all into his scratchy beard in a giant hug. "James, Sirius, Remus, how are you three holding up?"

"We're fine, Hagrid," Remus's reply was muffled.

James squirmed out of Hagrid's grasp and grinned at him. "How has your toolshed been since we set it on fire last semester?"

"Oh, it's as good as new now. Nothin' a little magic from Dumbledore couldn't fix," Hagrid winked at them. "Ah, if I had Galleon for every time you three've gotten into trouble, I'd be a rich man! I can't count how many times I've had to stop you from going into the Forbidden Forest for a 'school project'." He made quotations with his dustbin-lid-sized hands.

"You know setting fire to your toolshed was actually an accident, right?" Sirius said, carefully ignoring the comment about the Forbidden Forest.

Remus nodded. "And we're really sorry about it, too," he said uneasily.

"Don't worry about it! Jus' as I said b'fore, it's good as new!"

Hagrid glanced over their heads, as though he had spotted something, and suddenly his face lit up like a candle. "Harry!" He began waving his arms wildly. "Harry! Harry, over here!"

James turned to see Harry wading his way through the crowd towards them, grinning widely from ear to ear. "Hagrid!"

James couldn't help but notice how Hagrid's face had transformed dramatically. It had gone from simple fondness, to something more. When Hagrid pulled Harry into a bone-breaking hug as well, he looked as excited as though he were hugging his own son.

"Do you see that kid? The one hugging that giant man?"

"Yeah?"

"That's Harry Potter!"

"No _way!_ "

"It's true! I saw his scar."

"Did you get to meet him?"

"Well… not exactly… he did bump against me though, when we were leaving the train."

"No fair! I want to meet him."

"I'm going to get his autograph."

"Oooh, me too!"

James watched in disbelief as the two small first-years attempted to squeeze their way through the crowd towards Harry: "'Scuse us. Sorry. Got to get through."

He turned to his friends. "Did you hear that? The kid is famous!"

"Who?" Sirius had bent down to tie his sneaker, therefore missing the entire conversation.

"Harry. You know, my doppelganger," James said irritably. "Those first-years were talking about getting his autograph. They mentioned something about a scar."

"I did notice he had a funny mark on his forehead," Remus mused thoughtfully. "It was shaped sort of like a lightning bolt."

Sirius snorted. "What's so cool about a lightning-shaped scar? Sounds dumb."

James was thinking hard. "How come we've never seen this kid before?" he demanded. "He just pops up out of nowhere, yet everyone seems to know him!"

"We'd better get in a carriage before they all ride away," Remus broke in. James suddenly realized that the crowd had thinned significantly; Hagrid was already walking away with the first-years to get into the boats that would be their first-ever journey into Hogwarts.

The three of them hurried to get into the last of the horseless carriages; they were the only ones left, but for a single boy who was sitting alone in the corner of the carriage as they clambered in. He looked older, perhaps in his fifth year or so. He had a handsome, pale face, but his eyes had a dark, brooding look about them; that, added to the fact that he seemed to be sitting as far away from them as he possible could, gave him a rather unapproachable aura.

"Hi," Remus attempted valiantly.

"Hello." The greeting itself was not hostile, but the cold, calculated look the boy gave them sent shivers down James's spine. He wrapped his robes tighter around himself, and avoided the boy's eye for the rest of the short journey.

"Friendly chap," Sirius remarked as they hopped down from the carriage and hurried with the rest of the students to get inside the warm castle.

As they enter the enormous Great Hall, they were met by the castle ghosts, who were swooping about, greeting the students cheerily—with the exception of the Slytherin house spirit, the Bloody Baron, who seemed to enjoy swooping _through_ the students (giving them the nasty feeling they had walked into a freezing mist) more than welcoming them into the castle.

Nearly-Headless Nick, the Gryffindor house ghost, hovered above Sirius's head. "Welcome, welcome to another year at Hogwarts!" he sang.

"When's the feast going to begin?" Sirius grouched. "I'm starving."

"We still have to wait for the first-years to get Sorted," Remus reminded him.

"Aw, that always takes forever." Sirius complained.

But in due time, "Weasley, Ginny," was sorted into Gryffindor, Dumbledore gave his few words of welcome ("poppycock" and "lackadaisical"), reminding them that the Forbidden Forest was off-limits to _all_ students, unless they wanted to die a very painful death ("I swear he was looking straight at us when he said that," Sirius said smugly); then finally, the feast could begin.

James piled his plate high with mashed potatoes, peering at the last first-year to be sorted as she sat at the other end of the Gryffindor table, smiling shyly as she was congratulated by those sitting beside her. "She looks a lot like that red-headed kid—you know, the one with the freckles?"

"Maybe they're siblings," Remus mumbled through a mouthful of steak; somehow the house-elves knew that he preferred it a little on the raw side, and had prepared a special dish just for him.

James continued to watch the first-year girl and her companions. Suddenly, he noticed the two boys sitting on either side of her were identical—not similar, like James and Harry, but _identical_ — indistinguishable. He saw the girl's face redden, as they were apparently teasing her about something. They both had the same flaming red hair as the girl, so James assumed that they were her brothers, too. Good grief, just _how_ many siblings did this kid have?

He noticed with a frown that Harry was sitting by the lanky freckled kid; they had been sitting together in the train, too. _They must be best mates_ , James thought. The bushy-haired girl sat on the other side of Harry; she must be a friend as well. James didn't know how anyone would be able to stand her bossy attitude and smart-aleck way of speaking. Even now, she had pulled out her school schedule and was apparently explaining something to the two boys as they nodded absentmindedly without really paying attention.

"Hey." Sirius poked him. "You ever going to eat?"

James glanced down at his plate in surprise; his mashed potatoes were getting cold. He hurriedly scarfed them down, before reaching for a juicy chicken leg from the plate Sirius was holding out to him.

* * *

Later, in the Gryffindor common room, Harry slouched contentedly in a chair by the fire. With his stomach full and his body warmed by the merry flames, Harry found it difficult to not give into to the temptation to fall asleep.

"Ahhhh. I swear the food gets better and better every year." Ron groaned in pleasure, sprawled out in the chair opposite.

"What did they ever do with your cousin, Harry?" Hermione asked, glancing up from her place on the floor, where she had been diligently printing her name in large, graceful letters inside the covers of her new schoolbooks.

Harry frowned. "Professor McGonagall told me they returned him home with an escort and apologized to my aunt and uncle. It's the weirdest thing; even the officials at the Ministry of Magic don't know what to think of it."

"Why would somebody send a Muggle to Hogwarts?" Ron asked, sticking his foot out so that it was warmed by the fire.

"Dunno," Harry said. "What is weirder is that they say Dudley kept insisting that he was sitting at home, eating and watching TV, as usual, when he suddenly appeared on the train; nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary, and no strange people came up to him. Don't you have to be touching someone to transport them by Apparition? That's really the only way he could have gotten onto the train without anyone noticing."

"That _is_ strange," Hermione mused. "It's almost as if it's not normal magic."

"Don't house elves have a different sort of magic?" Ron examined a hole in his sock. "Mum says their magic doesn't really obey the same laws as ours does, or work like ours."

"Why would a house elf want to send Dudley to Hogwarts?" Harry queried.

"Dunno." Ron shrugged; his intelligent input for the day had been spent. He was more concerned now about yanking a loose string from his woolen sock.

"One thing's for sure," Harry said glumly. "I'm never going to hear the end of it when I go back for the summer."

"Well, you have a long while before then," Hermione said optimistically. "For now, we should just focus on life here at Hogwarts, and getting good grades."


	5. Part 1--Chapter 4: Magical Muggles

** Organized Chaos**

 **Part 1**

 **Chapter 4: Magical Muggles and The Boy Who Lived**

* * *

"Hi, Harry!" A voice squeaked, and Harry nearly jumped out of his chair; he had been close to falling asleep. It was Colin Creevey, his dreaded camera hanging from his neck.

"Can you believe it? I got Sorted into Gryffindor with you!"

"Oh, joy." Harry had to stop himself from groaning aloud.

"Should have been sorted into Nuisance-dor, where all the little pests go," Ron muttered irritably; he had been just about to doze off as well.

"Ron!" Hermione shot him a dangerous look, but the small boy didn't seem to have heard Ron's nasty comment.

"Can I get another—"

"No, Colin!" Harry jumped up in his seat in alarm, before adding a little less rudely, "Not tonight. I'm really tired, okay?"

"Okay!" the boy said cheerfully, "See you in the morning!" He bounced off towards a group of first-years playing wizard's chess in the corner of the common room.

"Hi, Harry. Hi, Ron." It was Seamus Finnigan, who shared a dorm with Harry and Ron.

"Hi Seamus," Harry said, relieved that it wasn't another admirer asking to get a picture or an autograph.

"Say, have you noticed how much bigger they've made our dormitory this year?" Seamus remarked casually, settling down with his back to the fire.

"Bigger?" Harry blinked in confusion.

"Yeah," Seamus traced the pattern of the carpet with his finger. "It was never cramped in the first place, but now it's huge. And when Dean and I counted, there were three beds too many."

"Three beds…too many?" Harry repeated again.

Seamus nodded. "Come on, I'll show you." He stood, and they followed him up the staircase to the boys' dormitories. When they got to the second-year boys' dorm, Harry counted the circle of beds, just to make sure. Sure enough, there were three extra beds.

"How does _that_ work, I wonder?" Ron scratched his head. "I mean, don't they usually accept the same number of students every year? So they shouldn't need to put in extra beds."

All of their trunks had been brought up, with their things laid neatly on their beds. Harry noticed that the three extra beds had trunks by them as well. "Well, it certainly looks like someone's using these beds," he said slowly.

At that moment, James, Sirius, and Remus pushed open the door, each carrying a plate full of cookies, chocolate, and little pastries. James and Harry both stared at one another.

"You're in our year?!" They both exclaimed at the same time.

"But _how?_ " Harry demanded. "I've never seen you before, so I just assumed you weren't in our year! You just popped up out of nowhere, and now they've added beds for you in our dorm?"

"You're the one who popped up out of nowhere," James retorted. "We've always been here."

"But you _haven't_!" Harry was now extremely confused.

"Where'd you get the food?" Ron asked the three newcomers, snatching a cookie and popping it in his mouth.

Sirius slapped his hand away, settling down onto his bed on his stomach. "The kitchens, duh."

"Really?" Seamus said curiously. "How'd you get in there? I've tried forever, but I can't find the entrance."

"Not telling," Sirius yawned and snapped a chocolate bar in half, before shoving the whole thing into his mouth at once.

"Aw, come on." Seamus pressed, also taking a cookie. "Is it somewhere around the Transfiguration classroom? That's the rumor, anyway."

"You guys aren't taking this seriously enough!" Harry exclaimed. "What are these guys _doing_ here?!"

"Oh, but I am," Sirius looked up solemnly. "Very Siriusl—"

"Oh shut up, Padfoot!" James snapped irritably.

"I don't see what you two are so worked up about," Seamus said honestly. "And now that you mention it," he glanced at James, chewing his cookie thoughtfully, "I think I do have a very vague memory of you guys being here last year. Dunno why it's vague, but it is."

"I think I remember you, too," Remus said slowly, "Isn't your name Dan, or something like that?"

"I'm Seamus." Seamus snatched another cookie and gestured to himself with it. "You're thinking of Dean Thomas, my best mate."

"If anyone else tries to take another of my cookies, I will hex them so that their toenails will never stop growing until they're as long as they are tall," Sirius announced calmly; Ron hastily yanked his outstretched arm back to his side.

"That was it, _Dean_." Remus nodded. "I don't remember anything about you, just your names."

"Same here." Seamus bit into his second cookie, getting a dab of powdered sugar on his nose.

"How come _I_ don't remember this guy?" James demanded, jabbing a lemon pastry at Seamus menacingly.

"Oh come on, Prongs, don't tell me you took the time to learn the names and faces of everybody in our year," Sirius said through his mouthful of chocolate. "That's just exhausting, and it takes way too much work."

James stared very hard at Harry. Then he choked a bit on his lemon pastry. Swallowing it hastily, he croaked, "Gotta go. Bathroom," and rushed out the door.

Harry saw Sirius and Remus share a look before getting up to run after him.

"Oh good, they left the cookies," Ron said, gathering a handful. At that moment, Dudley appeared right overtop the pastries, squashing them flat. Blinking in surprise, he rolled off of the bed it horror, smearing lemon custard along as he went.

"Noooooo!" he wailed. "Not _again!_ "

"Dudley?!" Harry could hardly believe his eyes.

"No _way_." In his shock, Ron dropped his precious cookies.

"H-H-Harry, stop d-d-doing th-this…" Dudley sobbed, curling up into an enormous ball. "P-p-please."

Harry stared at Dudley in astonishment. Dudley knew how to say _"please"?_

"W-what have I ever d-d-done to d-d-deserve this," Dudley continued, tears streaking down his flabby face.

"Uh, actually, a lot," Harry said dryly. "Like how you always have your friends hold me down so you can beat me up, or that time when you ate the entire cake for Uncle Vernon's birthday and blamed it on me. Or how about when you left a dead mouse in the teacher's desk at preschool and told her I'd put it there? Let's not forget the time you caught me during recess and put my head in the toilet—"

"Exactly!" Dudley raised his head from the floor, his nose running like mad. "I d-d-don't deserve this sort of t-t-treatment…"

Harry just shook his head in disbelief. "Well sorry to inform you, Cousin, but I have no idea who's doing this, much less how to stop it. But get up and wipe your nose; you're getting snot all over the carpet."

"Umm… guys?" Seamus said. Harry turned to look at him. "Count the beds again."

Harry did so. This time there were nine beds in all. That meant there were _four_ extra beds now.

"This is getting a little freaky…" Ron said finally.

Harry straightened up resolutely. "Come on, we're going to see Dumbledore." he said, reaching to pull Dudley to his feet. Dudley shrank away in terror.

"Don't touch me! You'll get your magical cooties on me!"

"Dudley, either you come with me, or I will hex your ears so large, you'll be able to fly with them." Harry said bluntly. It was a bit of a risky claim, as Harry had yet to truly master the _Engorgio_ spell.

Dudley, however, stared at him. "Like Dumbo?" he whispered.

Harry nodded solemnly. "Like Dumbo."

Dudley gave a wet sob, and struggled to his feet. Ron and Harry left Seamus to clean up the mess of squashed food as they escorted Dudley out the door.

There was a bit of a dilemma on how to get Dudley safely down the stairs; Ron suggested they turn him on his side and roll him down, but Harry reasoned that there would be no easy way to stop him, and that it was a bit of a health hazard for any unfortunate students attempting to get to their dorm at the same time. They were spared a decision, however, when Dudley suddenly disappeared, before reappearing moments later, upside-down in one of the chairs downstairs.

"Okay, now I'm really starting to freak out," Ron said, when it happened again as they attempted to descend the stairs from the common room to the first floor. This time, Dudley had fallen against one of the stone busts lining the hallway; but before the heavy marble was able to fall straight onto his head, it had exploded in a burst of brightly-colored confetti. Ron and Harry took to giving him at least six feet on either side, in case he decided to do anything else crazy.

It was a relief when they finally got to Dumbledore's office. But as they stood before the giant stone gargoyle guarding the entrance, they realized they had yet another problem. Harry and Ron looked at each other.

"How do you suppose we get in?" Ron asked.

"Dunno," Harry said.

"Do you have a password?" the gargoyle asked rudely, "because if you don't, then you should move along. If I let half the kids calling on the Headmaster in, he would never have a moment's peace."

"Uh… poppycock?" Ron tried hopefully.

"Nice try." The gargoyle scoffed.

"Lackadaisical," Harry suggested.

"Think harder," the gargoyle encouraged. "It's humorous to watch your childish little minds work."

At that moment, Dudley sneezed, and the gargoyle statue turned a bright shade of purple. "Ah, how petty." The gargoyle said crossly. "If you have a problem with the Headmaster's password system, bring it to him, don't take it out on me."

"I—I—I didn't—" Dudley began, before sneezing again. Harry felt a dizzy sensation—and suddenly realized they were no longer standing outside Dumbledore's office.

They were inside a rather spacious area, filled with numerous instruments and baubles that hissed, squeaked, smoked, and gurgled. All along the walls were the moving portraits of men and woman wearing different clothing, according their respective time periods; they had been the Headmasters and Headmistresses of Hogwarts long before Harry was even born. As Harry, Ron, and Dudley gawked about, a musical cry split the air; a beautiful, flaming-orange bird lifted off from its perch, startled by their unexpected intrusion.

"Whoa… a phoenix!" Ron said in awe. "I've never seen a real live one before!"

"His name is Fawkes," A voice said quietly, and the three jumped when they realized that there was a man sitting at the desk.

"Professor Dumbledore!" Harry exclaimed.

"Mr. Potter," Dumbledore inclined his head graciously, "Mr. Weasley." His eye fell on Dudley, and he peered at him over his half-moon glasses. "Ah, and the Muggle child. Mr. Dursley."

Dudley stared back at Dumbledore, terrified; he looked ready to wet his pants.

"Ah, sorry about just, you know, popping up out of nowhere," Harry began hastily, "But as you can see, we have a bit of a problem, sir."

"Mr. Dursley has returned, and with still no explanation, I presume?" Dumbledore smiled kindly at Dudley, who gave a small squeak, attempting to hide behind Harry; it was like an elephant trying to cower behind a lamppost.

"Yes sir," Ron nodded, "And he keeps doing weird stuff, like—"

Dumbledore's desk turned into a giant rubber chicken; papers flew everywhere, like feathers.

"—that," Ron concluded with wide eyes. Easily returning his desk to its original form, Dumbledore waved his wand and his papers flew back, meekly stacking themselves into a neat pile before him.

"Well," the Headmaster said finally, "In all of my years working in this position, I have seen many strange things, but I will say that I have never once seen my desk turn into a rubber joke item." His eyes twinkled as he pushed his glasses back up his long nose.

"What do we do, Professor?" Harry asked desperately.

"Do?" Dumbledore repeated. "Well, I suppose there is only one thing we _can_ do."

"What is it?"

"Allow this young man here to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." Dumbledore indicated Dudley with a small nod of his head.

" _What?!"_

"He obviously possesses some manner of magic," Dumbledore continued calmly. "The only issue he seems to be having is controlling it."

"But that's—that's—" Harry spluttered, at a loss for words.

"Outlandish? Unconventional? Lunacy?" Dumbledore suggested. "I daresay it is." He studied the ceiling thoughtfully. "I daresay I will be getting many owls from the Ministry about this."

"No way." Dudley seemed to have finally found his voice again. "No way am I going to this weirdo school, with—with freaks like—like him—" he jabbed a pudgy finger at Harry, "—and—and—" his voice dropped to little more than a whisper, as though he were saying the most deplorable word in the history of mankind, "…. _magic_."

"I'm sorry, I couldn't quite understand you," Dumbledore said cheerfully.

"I'M NOT MAGICAL!" Dudley screamed, "AND I WANT TO GO HOME!"

"Certainly," Dumbledore said pleasantly, "that can be arranged. But if I am so bold as to make a prediction, it will be that you will not remain there more than twenty-four hours before your magic transports you here again. It seems, Mr. Dursley," and Dumbledore smiled widely, "that you are simply _meant_ to be here."

"BUT I DON'T WANT TO BE HERE," Dudley bawled. "I WANNA SIT ON THE COUCH AND WATCH TV AND EAT PIZZA!"

"Dear me, that doesn't strike me as a very healthy lifestyle," Dumbledore shook his head. "But since the very last thing I want to do is hold anyone here against their will, I will arrange for you to be returned to your parents as soon as humanly possible."

Dudley didn't answer; instead he lay sobbing into the carpet. Dumbledore lifted his gaze and smiled kindly at Harry and Ron. "You two are free to go now. Try to get some sleep; you've both had a very busy day." With that, he winked at them, and they both turned to trot down the stairs, out into the hallway.

* * *

Sirius and Remus ran after James as he hurried out of the common room; he paused at the top of the stairs, waiting for them to catch up.

"Moony warned you about the Sugar Quills, Prongs," Sirius snickered as the three of them thundered down the stairs to the first floor.

"Shut up Padfoot, it isn't the Sugar Quills!" James retorted. "And you both know I can stomach anything."

"Then what is it?" Remus asked, "You know it's nearly curfew, right?"

"Yeah, that's why I told everyone I was going to the bathroom," James answered smugly. He took a sharp turn at the end of the staircase, before leading the others into the school library.

"The library?" Remus questioned, "What are we doing here?"

"Research." James began examining the shelves with a fervor, occasionally yanking a book out and shoving it into Remus's hands. When the growing stack of books in Remus's arms had reached a precariously swaying height of far above his head, James took his bewildered friend by the elbow and dragged him to a table.

"Come on mates, help me look." He gathered an armful of books from Remus and began perusing the material, his eyes running along each page only briefly before turning to another.

Sirius sat down beside him. "And just what, exactly, are we looking for?"

"Information on this Harry Potter kid!" James answered, as though it were obvious. "He's famous, isn't he? Well then, what for? And how come we've never heard of him before?" He pushed the book he had been scanning away in dissatisfaction, and snatched another one.

Sirius glanced at Remus and shrugged, leaning over the table to take a book from him. Remus set the pile in his arms down on the table, and picked a book up, too.

"Ugh, this one has tiny print." Sirius tossed the offender, _Notable Magical Names of Our Time,_ over his shoulder.

"This one's in Latin," he said in disgust, throwing _n_ _unc celebre ariolos_ away as well.

"Ah, this one doesn't have any illustrations," He flung _A Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry_ with the others.

"Sirius, we'll never be able to find anything if you keep throwing all of our sources away!" Remus protested.

"I have to find something I can read, first," Sirius answered carelessly.

"Here!" James jumped to his feet in triumph. "I found him." Sirius and Remus crowded around him to read:

 _Harry Potter is well-known throughout the wizarding community for his single-handed defeat of the terrible Dark Wizard Lord Voldemort, signaling the end of the First Wizarding War. Obtaining only a lightning-shaped scar as a reminder of that fateful night, young Harry is remarkable in the fact that he is the only human being, wizard or Muggle, that was ever able to face the Dark Lord and live to tell the tale; hence the nickname, "The Boy Who Lived". He now lives with his Muggle aunt and uncle near London._

James turned to his friends. "Lord Voldemort? First Wizarding War? 'Single-handed defeat'? How come we've never heard of _any_ of this?!"

"Who's Lord Voldemort?" Sirius bent over the book curiously.

"I don't _know!_ " James threw his hands into the air in frustration.

"Do my ears deceive me? Are there _students_ … out of bed?" The gruff voice sounded as though the person speaking could hardly believe their luck.

James glanced at the others, eyes wide. "It's Filch."

"Go, go, go!" Sirius laughed, shoving him forward. "Come on, Moony!" He grabbed the boy by the sleeve of his robes and yanked him after them. The three sprinted full-length down the hallways, Sirius struggling to contain his giggling. Scrambling up the stairs ("Watch it—the Vanishing step!"), they came to the Fat Lady guarding the entrance to the Gryffindor common room.

"Claptrap," James panted.

"I suppose," the Fat Lady said, swinging open, and they tripped over one another into the common room. It was empty, as all the good students were in bed as they were supposed to be. The Marauders staggered up the stairs to the boys' dormitories wearily. As soon as they had safely shut the door to their dorm, however, Sirius suddenly let out a great burst of maniacal laughter; Neville Longbottom gave a surprised yelp and dove underneath his bedsheets.

Harry glanced up from _Quidditch Through the Ages_ , which he had borrowed from Ron, with a sour look. "Where have _you_ been?" he asked crossly.

"The bathroom," James said innocently, pulling his pajamas out of his trunk.

* * *

It happened around midnight; Harry woke to an anguished wail. "Noooooooooooooooo…."

Dudley had returned.

After all of the confusion had died down a bit, Dudley was given the extra bed, an explanation was sent in person to Harry's Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia (though Harry doubted a single word Dumbledore said would be _believed_ , much less consoling), and the boys of the second-year dormitory were subjected to an hour straight of Dudley's muffled sobs into his pillow. Everyone was immensely relieved, when, finally, the sobs were exchanged for a thunderous snore. They all fell asleep at once, hurrying to snatch as much of the last few hours of the night as they possibly could.

Everyone, that is, but for one exception.

Remus lay on his back, staring up into the curtains pulled around his bed. Thinking.

In his hasty reading of the biography on Harry, James had not cared to read the portion above it. But Remus had. Even now he saw the words, as though they were printed right onto the canopy above him.

 _Harry Potter. Son of the late James and Lily Potter, the famous freedom fighters who unfortunately lost their lives in the battle against Voldemort._

 _James and Lily Potter._

 _Lost their lives in the battle against Voldemort._

 _James and Lily._

 _Lost their lives._

Yes, Remus had much to think about that night. Much to think about indeed.

* * *

 **Hey guys, thanks for sticking with Harry, James, and the crew so far! I just want to thank J.K. Rowling for all of the beautiful characters she's created, and how much fun they are to work with. I hope you've enjoyed reading this as much as I have writing it! Don't forget to let me know what you think; comments are what fuel efforts like this and are always appreciated! -Alaskan Appaloosa**


	6. Part 1--Chapter 5: Mice and Roses

**Organized Chaos**

 **Part 1**

 **Chapter 5: Mice and Roses**

* * *

"Rawp."

Trevor squatted on Neville's chest, rising and falling with the boy's steady breathing. The toad's throat pulsated as the creature blinked its beady eyes, staring at Neville's sleeping face. As Trevor watched, another human face slowly rose above the edge of the bed; it winked at Trevor wickedly. Trevor got a nasty feeling about where this was headed.

"Rawp," Trevor croaked uncertainly.

" _Auguamenti!_ " James crowed, catching Neville full in the face with the blast of water that erupted from the end of his wand.

"AHHHHHH!" Neville screamed, flailing his arms wildly. He became entangled in his bedsheets, and rolled off the bed, landing with a painful-sounding _thud_ onto the floor.

Harry, Ron, Seamus, and Dean immediately fumbled with their own bedsheets in alarm; Dudley shrieked and attempted to hide under his bed, only to get stuck halfway in. "Blimey, are we under attack?" Ron yelped.

"Good morning," James casually polishing his wand on his robes. He stretched, inhaling deeply, and sighed happily. "Ahhhh. It's so good to be back."

He strode over to Sirius's bed, where his best mate still lay snoring; Sirius could sleep through a hurricane. "Get up, Padfoot."

"No," Sirius mumbled into his pillow.

"I'll _Auguamenti_ you," James warned him.

"And risk my jinxing your legs into jelly?" Sirius questioned, with his eyes still closed.

"You've got a point there," James admitted, and went to brush his teeth.

When he returned, Sirius was pulling his robes over his head. "Your tie is crooked," he commented disinterestedly.

"So it is." James grinned. "Wouldn't want to give a bad first impression at the start of the school year, now would we?" Stepping in front of the mirror, he ran a hand through his hair, so that it stuck out in all directions. "Now we're good to go," He eyed his reflection with satisfaction. Peering at the mirror more closely, however, he frowned.

There was still one occupied bed.

"What the heck, Moony?" James stripped the blankets off of his friend. "Padfoot's the heavy sleeper, not you."

Remus moaned and lifted his head weakly. "What time is it?"

"Time for breakfast," James said incredulously. "What's the matter with you? You look like you were just run over by a train."

"Didn't sleep very well last night, I guess." Remus croaked.

"Well, you'd better get dressed; everybody's already in the Great Hall."

* * *

Ron poured a generous amount of syrup over his pancakes. "I heard Quidditch practice starts later this week," he said, taking a big bite as syrup dripped down his chin; Hermione shot him a distasteful look.

"Yeah," Harry said. He picked at his scrambled eggs with his fork, suddenly feeling a bit queasy. "I hope I don't ruin our chances of winning the Quidditch Cup this year."

"Are you _kidding?_ " Ron nearly choked on his pancake, pausing in the act of dribbling syrup on his bacon to stare at Harry in incredulity.

Harry mumbled into his mug of hot cocoa. "I mean, I let the whole team down last year."

" _Honestly_ , Harry!" Hermione slapped _The Daily Prophet_ , which she had been buried in a few seconds earlier, onto the table. "We're not having any more of this. You were _injured!_ "

"Fighting to keep _Voldemort_ from returning, no less!" Ron jabbed his sticky fork at Harry.

Hermione nodded, her bushy hair bouncing up and down. "If it weren't for you, Voldemort could have risen to power again!"

"Only thanks to you guys," Harry said seriously. "I wouldn't have made it very far without you two helping me."

Ron's face turned bright red, and he suddenly seemed intent on shoveling pancake into his mouth, while Hermione fumbled hastily with _The Daily Prophet_ , opening it again with a sharp snap.

"Oh—well! That's completely irrelevant…"

Fred and George Weasley dropped themselves on either side of Harry with identical grins. "Hi, Harry."

"Hi, guys." Harry grinned as well; the twins' smirks were always contagious. "What have you been up to?"

"Oh you know, this and that," Fred said with a wink. "Being perfect angels as usual."

"Blowing up toilets and whatnot," George said, flipping his wand carelessly.

"You wouldn't!" Hermione dropped her newspaper into her lap, alarmed.

"Only joking," Fred said. He cut her a sideways glance, raising his eyebrows. "Or are we?"

"I suppose Harry and Ron will find out once they _really_ need to go," George grinned evilly, tapping his little brother on the head with his wand.

"We heard about your cousin, Harry," Fred took a piece of syrup-soaked bacon from Ron's plate. "Dad says the Ministry is in an uproar over it; nothing like this has ever happened in recorded history."

"Oh," Harry's face fell; he didn't want to think about Dudley right now. "Yeah, that's him, over there." He pointed toward the far end of the Gryffindor table, where his cousin was bent over, scarfing down each bite as though it were his last. "He's about month older than me, but they put him with the first-years because he doesn't know a single thing about magic." Harry stirred his mug of hot cocoa with his spoon. "They tried to have the Sorting Hat sort him, just for a bit of something more traditional I guess, but when they put it on his head, it went berserk and wouldn't talk to anybody for a while afterwards. So they just ended up putting him in Gryffindor, where I'm supposed to keep an eye on him."

"Is it true he turned Dumbledore's desk into a rubber chicken?" George asked eagerly.

Harry nodded. "Yeah."

The twins turned to each other gleefully. "We may just have to pay this new prankster a visit," Fred said.

"Actually, I'm pretty sure it was an accident," Harry said glumly. "And—"

"Oh Fred, George, you're not going to _recruit_ him, are you?" Hermione exclaimed. "We have enough chaos going on in classes already, _without_ all of our desks turning into chickens! And anyway, Dudley is _horrible_ to Harry when he's home, isn't he, Harry?"

"Well… yeah," Harry shifted uncomfortably. "But it's not…"

"Wait a minute…" Fred frowned. "Is this the same cousin who ate all the brownies our Mum sent you for your birthday?"

"Yeah…?" Harry said, "But it's fine, your Mum sent more. They were really good, too," he added. His mouth watered at the memory, even though he had just eaten a quite decent stack of pancakes.

The twins turned to one another again, but this time they shared a dark look. "Yes… perhaps we _will_ have to pay this cousin of Harry's a visit, Fred," George said.

"I whole-heartedly agree, George," Fred tapped his wand against his palm menacingly.

"Ohhh… go easy on him, will you?" Hermione said anxiously, "He's been through a lot already. What with all his popping back and forth and his uncontrollable magic; he must be terrified right now."

"Come on Hermione, just a few seconds ago you were telling Fred and George how he always bullies Harry, and now you're sticking up for him?" Ron said in disgust, swallowing an enormous mouthful of pancake. "Dudley totally deserves it!"

"Yes," Harry said quietly, "He does." He glanced up at Fred and George. "But just leave him alone for the time being, okay? Just… give him a couple days, will you?"

"Whatever you say," George shrugged.

"C'mon Georgie, I want to see Lee Jordan's tarantula; he says he's finally trained it to dance the tango." Fred said, grabbing a donut. "We'll see if he's telling the truth this time."

George grabbed another donut. "We shall see." He waved it, scattering sprinkles everywhere. "Cheerio, all."

The two simultaneously took a bite out of their donuts, before striding away, munching thoughtfully.

"Harry." Ron poke him in the arm, and Harry turned to look at him. "Do you see that bloke over there at the Slytherin table? Oh—he just turned around. Caught me looking at him, I think."

"The tall one with the dark hair?" Harry leaned to the side, trying to see over the many heads between them and the Slytherin table.

"Yeah." Ron toyed with his bacon. "I've never seen him before. He looks a bit of a creep, don't you think? He keeps glancing over in our direction."

"Does he?" Harry craned his neck. "All I can really see is the back of Draco Malfoy's head."

Harry's nemesis seemed to sense Harry's deadly glare, and turned around. Catching sight of Harry, his eyes narrowed, glittering maliciously; he turned back to his fellow Slytherins with a smirk.

"Great," Harry slumped back on the bench with a groan, "I can already see the little wheels turning in his head. If I know Malfoy at all, he's going to have a field day with me and James looking alike and all that. And we have Transfiguration with the Slytherins first thing this morning, too."

* * *

"Today we will be learning how to transfigure a mouse into a teacup." Professor McGonagall raked her severe gaze along the classroom. "I expect you to be listening attentively, and to follow instructions _exactly_."

To Harry's left, Ron suddenly leapt into the air with a squeak; Neville, his desk partner, had somehow managed to drop his mouse down the back of his shirt. The clumsy boy gasped out his apology over and over again as he attempted to help Ron catch the tiny creature, while Ron continued to squirm wildly. There was a smattering of derisive laughter before McGonagall waved her wand once, and the mouse flew out of Ron's shirt, onto her desk. _She_ was not amused in the slightest.

"Mr. Longbottom!"

Whatever admonishment about to be delivered to Neville was interrupted, however, when the doors to the Transfiguration classroom were flung open, and James Potter and Sirius Black came striding in.

"Mr. Potter. Mr. Black. So good of you to decide to grace us with your presence." McGonagall turned her scathing gaze towards them.

"Sorry Professor, we were detained," Sirius said lazily, taking his seat.

"Take your feet off of your desk, Mr. Black!" McGonagall snapped.

"We met Peeves in the hallway," James's eyes widened innocently. "Honestly Professor, we tried to hurry."

"Take your seat."

James obeyed, settling down at the desk beside Sirius's. McGonagall looked on with her lips pinched tightly together, but she said nothing, instead turning to the rest of the class. "Repeat after me." Professor McGonagall raised her wand. " _Mutatio_."

" _Mutatio_ ," the class droned.

"No, not in that lazy, mumbling way." Professor McGonagall said disapprovingly. "Use a brisk, sharp voice and wand movement. _Mutatio_."

" _Mutatio!_ " The class chorused.

"Better." McGonagall gave a curt nod. "Now practice on your mice."

"I pity the mouse assigned to Longbottom," the hated voice drawled, just loud enough so that Professor McGonagall could not hear him, "Soon enough we're going to scraping bits of it from the ceiling, just you wait."

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry snarled, watching Neville shrink into his seat in misery.

"Ooooh, I'm so scared now!" Draco pulled away in mock terror. "The famous Harry Potter has told me to shut up. What's he going to do, set his stunt double on me?"

"Oh, that's a good one, Malfoy!" Crabbe, one of Draco's ever-present cronies, turned to him in awe.

Harry groaned inwardly; it had begun. He was just thankful James hadn't overheard, as he didn't think the other boy would take too well to being described as Harry's 'stunt double'.

"Shove off, Malfoy." Ron glared at the Sytherin boy over Neville's head.

"I didn't think you could dance, Weasley," Draco replied. "But I found I was mistaken when Longbottom dropped that mouse down your shirt. I suppose everyone has a talent hidden away somewhere, it just takes the right circumstances to bring them into the spotlight." Behind him, Crabbe and Goyle could barely breathe for laughter.

"Boys!" McGonagall turned sharply from writing something on the chalkboard. "That's _quite_ enough of the chitchat!"

"Certainly, Professor," Draco called back innocently. "We were only discussing the subject of this class today." He turned around to face his mouse again, but not without a smirk and a jerk of his eyebrows in Harry's direction.

Harry turned back to his own mouse, seething. His first few attempts were rather breathless, and the mouse continued to sit there, staring up at him cheekily—still very much a mouse. Harry tried to calm himself and to focus on the lesson.

" _Mutatio._ " The mouse yawned and began to clean its whiskers with its tiny paws.

"I think it looks a bit rounder around the middle," Ron said bracingly; his own mouse appeared to be taking a nap on his desk.

Hermione leaned over his shoulder. "Harry, you're saying it wrong. Don't put emphasis on any part of the word. _Mutatio!_ " A shiny white teacup glittered on her desk.

Harry sighed. "Thanks, Hermione."

Over the clamor of twenty-plus students repeating the same word over and over again, Harry gradually began to notice two voices in particular:

"Moo- taught-ee-owe."

"Moototty-oh!"

"Mutty-toto."

"Mooty-tot-toe!"

"Motty-tot-too."

Meaty-top-toe!"

"Moppy-toppy-too."

"Floppy-doopie-doo!"

Shoo-wop-dee-doo."

"Shoppa-loppa—"

"Mr. Potter! Mr. Black!" McGonagall towered over them furiously. "That will be _quite_ enough!"

"But Professor," James protested, "We're just repeating what we thought you said."

"The correct pronunciation," Professor McGonagall said through gritted teeth, "Is _Mutatio_."

"Ohhhh." James turned and raised his eyebrows at the rest of the class as everyone struggled to hold back their laughter.

" _Mutatio_ ," Sirius said easily, and his mouse instantly transformed into a brilliant white teacup. The class applauded wildly.

"Oh, _honestly_." Hermione said crossly. "When everyone laughs, it encourages them."

Harry saw that there was another student besides Hermione that was not remotely amused; the girl with the emerald-green eyes he and Ron had met back on the Hogwarts Express was glaring resolutely at the chalkboard, pointedly refusing to turn and look at the two troublemakers. He saw also that on her desk before her there sat a delicate white teacup.

Ron turned from watching James and Sirius, back to his mouse with a determined look on his face. "Mu _tat_ io!" he announced confidently, and gave his mouse a sharp rap with his wand. It barely had time to look startled at being woken from its nap before there was a loud BANG, and the little creature was engulfed in smoke. Ron waved the smoke away, coughing a little, peering through it hopefully.

There, on his desk, sat a hairy little teacup with four legs and a tail. An incredulous whoop came from the Slytherin side of the room, before the entire class burst into peals of laughter. The teacup spun in a circle, disoriented (as it appeared to have no eyes to see with), before hopping with a mortified squeak from Ron's desk, scampering out of the room. The class roared again, as Ron slid underneath his desk, his freckled face a lovely crimson color.

"SILENCE!" Purple firecrackers exploded from the end of Professor McGonagall's wand, and everyone fell silent at once. "I will not have my students turning this classroom into a disorderly circus. Detention, Potter and Black. My office, seven o'clock sharp tonight." She turned her furious gaze on the rest of the classroom. "And if anyone else would like to disrupt this class again, they may join them."

The classroom was silent. Even the mice looked intimidated, and cowered down on the students' desks.

"Good." McGonagall turned back to the board. "Now continue practicing while I write out your homework for tonight."

* * *

Harry and Hermione had to trot to keep up with Ron's lengthy strides as he stormed down the corridor on the way to the Charms classroom.

"At least Professor McGonagall didn't give _you_ detention," Hermione said primly. "She has quite enough sense to see that you didn't do it on purpose. I think she was quite right to punish those two boys; they were being horribly disrespectful!"

"At least you did better than I did," Harry panted, struggling to keep up with his long-legged friend. "I couldn't get my mouse to change at all."

Hermione clutched her books to her chest as she swerved to avoid a first-year going the opposite direction. "It _is_ a difficult spell, Ron," she put in hesitantly. "Half the class haven't gotten it yet."

"Yeah? _You_ didn't seem to have any trouble with it."

"Yeah, but she's a genius," Harry ducked under the Fat Friar, the Hufflepuff house ghost, as he floated, humming cheerfully to himself, through the corridor. Hermione blushed a deep red and brought her books up to cover her face, but Harry could tell she was quite pleased.

"Hey Weasley, congratulations on the new edition to your family!" Draco Malfoy ran to catch up to them; Crabbe and Goyle were right behind him, sniggering.

"We should just keep walking," Hermione whispered nervously, but Harry stopped to stand in the middle of the hallway, turning to face him.

"Good thing it doesn't have a mouth," Draco continued in mock concern, "Because I would feel terrible if you couldn't afford to feed the little guy. Is it true all your Mum can afford to buy is porridge and turnips to feed the lot of you?"

"That's not true, and you know it, Malfoy," Harry growled, as Ron's ears began to turn an ominous shade of maroon. "Shove _off_."

Crabbe and Goyle cracked their knuckles menacingly. Draco raised his eyebrows. " _Make_ me, Potter."

"Leave him alone!" Suddenly the girl with long, wavy red hair was standing in front of Harry, her emerald-green eyes blazing.

Draco took a step back. "Who are _you?_ "

"I said, _leave him alone_." The girl repeated. She spat out each word with contempt. "You're sick. Don't you have better things to do with your time than bully people? Get a life!"

"Wha…?"

"You're one of those people who are always picking on people smaller than you, aren't you?" the girl hissed, "The ones you don't think will fight back."

Harry was mortified. She didn't think he could stand up for himself? He pushed her aside, a little more roughly than he had intended. "Thanks, but I think I have this handled," he said irritably. "I don't need you to protect me," he muttered.

"Well, _excuse_ me then!" the girl turned her fiery gaze on him, and Harry instinctively took a step back.

"Hey, Evans!" James and Sirius trotted up, pushing a couple first-years aside. "What's up?"

"And _you!_ " The girl James had called Evans whirled on the two, and Harry could have sworn he saw green sparks shoot from her eyes. "You two are no better. You stuck-up, arrogant little _prats!_ You're _always_ getting to classes late, you're disrespectful to the teachers, and you hex people simply because you're bored! You don't think any rules apply to you, do you?"

James and Sirius looked a little taken aback, and glanced at each other as if to ask, _what do you reckon she's going on about, mate?_ _Dunno, I was just about to ask you._

"Wait a minute…" Draco peered at the girl thoughtfully. "I think I know who you are. You're that girl who has two Muggle parents, am I right? You're the only one of your family that's magical. Even your older sister hasn't a _trace_ of magic about her." He turned to Harry, a nasty smirk spreading across his pale face.

"I never thought you could sink this low, Potter." Draco drawled, dwelling on every word as though he were savoring a delicious piece of candy, "Hiding like a cowardly little Muggle behind your friends. Letting _Mudbloods_ fight your battles for you."

"HOW _DARE_ YOU CALL HER THAT!" James whipped out his wand, leaping forward. " _ROSARPUNTA!_ "

Before Harry quite knew what was happening, Hermione had yanked him to the floor as a multitude of hexes and jinxes were fired in all directions. The gathered Gryffindors, it seemed, spurred on by James's sudden hex, had leaped forward and were firing wildly at Draco and his Slytherin companions. The rest of students (mostly Slytherin, with the odd Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw) became caught up in the excitement, and began launching the first jinx that came to mind in random directions, so that the corridor was soon a battleground of flying jets of purple and red light. Harry thought he remembered firing a couple _Rictusempra_ jinxes from the ground himself, and Ron claimed he even _hit_ somebody (as to who it was, he had no clue), before Hermione leaped to her feet with a cry.

" _Protego!_ "

Curiously, every spell fired after Hermione performed this charm seemed to ricochet back at its procurer, so that several students were forced to duck as their own spells bounced back towards them. Presently, everyone stopped launching spells at the other side altogether. There was silence, except for the unfortunate Millicent Bulstrode, who was rolling on the floor, hardly able to breathe for laughter; she had apparently been hit by a tickling charm, perhaps one of Harry's own.

Hermione glared at the students on one side of her Shield Charm, then at those on the opposite. "Are you all completely _mad?_ Using any sort of spellwork in the hallway is _strictly forbidden!_ " They stared back at her, some with pink hair, others with rapidly-growing front teeth, and still others with deer antlers sprouting above their ears. There was even one first-year boy who was stumbling about with a pumpkin instead of a head.

Draco Malfoy attempted to get up with a whimper, having been thrown backwards by James's first hex. He seemed to be unable to put any weight on his feet, however, and toppled back over with a yelp, clutching at his shoes. He appeared to be struggling to pull them off, but they weren't budging.

"What'd you hit him with?" Sirius raised an eyebrow at James.

"Dunno." James was still seething. "Something from that old hex book we found in my attic."

Draco yelped again, yanking desperately at his shoe.

"It seems to be causing him a considerable amount of pain," Sirius remarked.

With a last gasp, Draco finally managed to rip off his shoe. Everyone watched in a kind of horrified curiosity as he clutched at his foot, blood soaking through his sock, running onto his hands. As they continued to stare, something burst forth like a spring from the boy's toes, unfurling to reveal a vine of crimson-stained thorns, each nearly an inch long. A small blossom appeared at the very end of the vine, blooming into a single, gorgeous, blood-red rose.

Draco whimpered pitifully, before turning to tug at his other shoe.

"Rose toes," James whispered. Then, louder, "He has roses sprouting from his toes!"

There was a roar of laughter.

"It's not funny!" Pansy Parkinson squealed. "We have to get him to Madam Pomfrey!" She grabbed Draco under the arms and attempted to drag him, while he continued to claw at his remaining shoe.

"I don't think the hospital wing is the best place to take him," Sirius said solemnly. "He's better off with Professor Sprout, in the Herbology department."

"That is _not_ funny!" Hermione repeated, as the corridor erupted into more gales of laughter.

"Hey, Malfoy!" James called, "Will we be seeing you in Herbology this afternoon? Perhaps you'll be the specimen we're supposed to learn to care for." He spoke in a pompous imitation of Professor Sprout's lecturing voice. "This is a Dracorose, everyone! It needs to be watered generously every morning at seven o'clock, and every half-hour you will need to trim its blooms; they make a wonderful centerpiece for your table! Watch your fingers, however, these thorns are nice and sharp!"

Crabbe and Goyle had finally stepped forward to help Pansy, and the two of them began to clumsily drag Draco down the hall in the direction of the hospital wing. Draco tore his remaining shoe from his foot and chucked it away from himself, now quite literally sobbing as another breathtakingly beautiful rose sprouted to bob alongside the other. Blood was left streaking in his wake as he was dragged away, the roses bouncing along absurdly behind him.

The rest of the students continued to howl with laughter, including those with pink hair, overlarge teeth, and antlers, who followed him in order to receive treatment in the hospital wing. The boy with the pumpkin head stumbled about blindly, bumping into the walls, until a kindly Hufflepuff girl took pity on him and led him off after the others. Those who had escaped from the melee unscathed continued on to their respective classes, chattering excitedly with one another.

James turned to Sirius. "That was brilliant!"

"No, it was _not!_ " Hermione exclaimed, gathering her books from the floor angrily. "When the teachers find out about this, you're going to be in trouble for starting a student riot!"

"Nah, I won't," James waved a hand carelessly. "This stuff happens all the time. They don't have any proof it was me, anyway."

Sirius had his eyes closed, his face to the ceiling. "Shh. The look on his face when he saw that rose sprout from his toes. I'm trying to commit it to memory. I want to remember this moment for the rest of my life."

James turned, a sudden heat boring into the back of his head; Lily was glaring at him. Like silent embers, the hatred and loathing in her eyes seemed to burn hotter than the fire that had been present just a few minutes ago. She turned briskly, tossing her auburn hair over her shoulder.

"Evans, wait—"

She was gone.


	7. Part 1--Chapter 6: Professor Snivellus

Heyo everyone, I'm back. Did you miss me? Hope you've all had a wonderful holiday season! Mine was pretty hectic, so sorry about the wait and all that. Well, if you're reading this you've found some reason to stick around for all this time, so I thank you for that. Thanks also for every follow, favorite, and comment; they all just brighten my day. Okay, okay, I'll leave now.

* * *

 **Organized Chaos**

 **Part 1**

 **Chapter Six: Professor Snivellus**

* * *

James struggled to contain his laughter all throughout Herbology that afternoon. Several times during the lesson, Professor Sprout had to stop and ask him if he was feeling all right; of course that made everything ten times funnier, so James had even more difficulty replying.

Sirius bumped him. "Get ahold of yourself, mate. You sound like you had one too many Gigglewaters."

"Sorry." James put on an expression more suitable for a funeral.

...Or perhaps for the subject of their lesson today.

"A _Cuddling Cactus?_ " Sirius snorted incredulously, staring at the large plant sitting on the table in front of them. "What sane person on this entire planet would ever want to keep one of these?"

"This could be interesting," James agreed, eyeing the plant warily.

"While the word 'cactus' may conjure up images of deserts and baking sand," Professor Sprout was saying, "The Cuddling Cactus is unique in that it can be found in the forests of our very own England, if one knows where to look." She gestured to another cactus sitting on her desk. It certainly didn't look very remarkable. It was a dumpy sort of plant, with wart-like lumps and a mottled green color.

"The sap of the Cuddling Cactus is incredibly useful," Professor Sprout continued, "In addition to it bringing live-giving nourishment and water during droughts as ordinary cacti do, it also has a narcotic effect on human beings, and can be used to reduce pain. Some wizards and witches have used it as a home remedy instead of more expensive painkiller potions; however, too large of a dose can plunge the user into a very deep sleep, so deep in fact that they are unable to be woken. As there are few known antidotes, overdosers will often remain in this unconscious state until they eventually die."

"Whoa." James stood up a little straighter, suddenly intrigued.

"Since it is very difficult to determine how large of a dose is healthy and when it becomes deadly, its distribution as a household plant was banned by the Ministry of Magic in 1973."

"Then _why_ are we learning to care for one again?" Sirius muttered under his breath.

As though she had heard him, Professor Sprout put her hands on her wide hips. "However, licensed breeders are permitted to harvest the sap, as it is excellent as lawn fertilizer."

"Go figure," Sirius blew his dark hair out of his eyes.

"Just when I thought this was going to be an interesting lesson, we're harvesting fertilizer again," James groaned.

"Split into groups of three," Professor Sprout said briskly, "And I will demonstrate the proper technique."

Harvesting cactus sap was harder than James had expected- a lot harder, in fact. For one thing, James realized that it wasn't called a 'Cuddling Cactus' just to be cute: the second they touched it, the plant closed in around their hands in a deathgrip.

"Ow!" James yanked his hand back, shaking it furiously, while Sirius sucked his fingers with a dark expression.

Approaching the plant warily this time, James carefully reached out a hand and poked it again. Again, it immediately curled inward. " _OW!"_ He wrenched his hand away. "The spines go right through the gloves!"

"Bet Sprout is enjoying this," Sirius solemnly dug a spine from his finger and squeezed it, eyeing it as a tiny bit of blood beaded from the wound. "Watching all of her students get spined like pincushions."

"Moony. Hey, Moony!" James waved his hand in front of his friend's face. "Earth to Moony! What's up with you, mate? You've been like a zombie all day."

"Hm?" Remus blinked, snapping out of his ruminations. "Sorry. Just thinking."

"You've been _thinking_ all day," Sirius chewed at a hangnail.

"What are you so concerned about, anyway?" James demanded. "Finals are a semester away, Padfoot and I have yet to be suspended, and we gave up that arachnomacula we found in the Forbidden Forest last year, just as you begged us to. What could you possible have to worry about?"

"I'm not worried about anything!" Remus insisted, a little too loudly. Realizing he'd been shouting, he lowered his voice. "I just had a bad night's sleep. Okay?"

"All right, all right, I was just asking!" James threw up his hands defensively. It wasn't like Remus to get so upset over something like that.

Meanwhile, Harry, Ron, and Hermione weren't faring much better. Ron grimaced as he scraped away the spines buried in his palm. "If this stupid plant keeps this up, we're all going to need a dose of that painkiller sap."

"Oh Ron, don't joke about stuff like that!" Hermione was cross because the cactus had yanked her hair, and she had to carefully comb through the bushy mane with her fingers in order to get rid of the spines.

Harry threw his useless gloves away in disgust. "How did she say we were supposed to calm it?"

"Didn't hear," Ron muttered, examining his palm ruefully, "I was too busy trying to get my hand out of this pincushion nest."

"Hi guys," Too short to peer over Ron's shoulder, Neville appeared by his elbow, as usual fidgeting nervously.

"Having any luck with your cactus?" Harry asked absently, studying the one in front of him; he was mapping out a battle plan in his head. "Okay, Ron, I think we might be able to get something if you hold its little arms still while I go in there." He pressed the gloves into his bewildered friend's arms.

"Wait, why am _I_ the one who has to hold it!" Ron exclaimed, backing away. "Why can't you or Hermione hold it?"

"Actually, you don't have to hold it," Neville spoke up timidly, and immediately reddened. "You can… I mean Professor Sprout said…"

" _What_ , Neville?" Ron burst out peevishly.

"You have to tickle it," Neville finally finished in a very small voice.

"What?"

"You tickle it," Neville repeated. "See?" He reached up to a spot just below the cactus's 'arm', and began to gently but firmly tease the plant. It stiffened for a moment, then suddenly relaxed like a dog under a belly rub. Harry, Ron, and Hermione stared, gape-mouthed. Neville turned and saw their faces, and blushed furiously. "I mean… I thought… Professor Sprout demonstrated it for the whole class…"

"Neville…" began Hermione.

"You just stuck your hand right up to it," Ron finished.

"You didn't even _look_ scared!" Harry added.

"You're afraid of your own shadow, but to this… this monstrous plant- with which there is a very good reason to be concerned- you didn't bat an eye!" Ron shook his head in disbelief.

"I know, right?" Suddenly Neville brightened. "The funny thing was, I was nervous when I did it the first time, but now that I've done it, I think I really enjoy it." he said, a little breathlessly. "Herbology is so cool. I think this is what I want to do with my life."

There was a pause.

"Ooookaaaay then," Ron said.

"That's great, Neville," Harry put aside his doubts at the genuinely excited gleam in Neville's eyes. So what if Harry would never be a Herbologist if it were the last job on earth. If Neville decided it was his dream, that was good enough for Neville.

Neville nodded eagerly. "I think I'm going to stay behind and help Professor Sprout repot the mandrakes. So if I don't show up to lunch, you'll know where I am."

"All right, that sounds good, Neville," Hermione said kindly.

"He wants to pursue Herbology?!" Ron burst out the minute they were out of earshot. "That's the dumbest job I've ever heard of, besides designing cauldron feet! Who would _willingly_ spend every single day working with _plants_?!"

"Shut up, Ronald!" Hermione snapped. "That's an awful thing to say. If it makes Neville happy, I say he should pursue it, without rude, inconsiderate people telling him he shouldn't!" She gave Ron a pointed glare. "I'm glad he's found a purpose in something," she smiled a bit sadly. "What with all of the bullying he puts up with, he deserves something he enjoys for a change."

* * *

At lunch, James balanced his fork on his finger, bored. "I'm bored," he announced.

"Good for you." Sirius took a big bite out of his cold chicken sandwich.

"What do we have this afternoon?" James pressed, now trying to balance his knife and spoon on either side of his fork.

"Look in the schedule yourself," Sirius said shortly, taking another bite.

James let the utensils clatter onto the table, and reached down to pull his schedule out of his bag. "Looks like we've got… Potions next," he squinted, attempting to read the sheet under the table. "Move your elbow, Padfoot. It's in the way." Sirius grunted, but obliged.

James slid the schedule back into his bag with a sigh. "All we've got to look forward to is detention tonight. When we can test out those little mirrors we found this summer."

" _If_ she put us in separate detentions," Sirius warned.

"She will," James reassured him. "We're too much trouble to put in detention together." Something down the Gryffindor table caught his eye. It was the Muggle boy, shoveling food into his mouth with wild enthusiasm.

"Does that kid never stop eating?" James shook his head. He picked up his fork again. "Watch this, Padfoot. I'm gonna nail him right in the ear. Alright?" Loading a generous amount of cold chicken onto his fork, he bent the prongs back like a catapult. The fork sprang forward with a musical twang, and the chicken went flying over the students' heads in a beautiful arc, hitting the boy directly in the ear. The Muggle boy jumped nearly ten feet into the air, clapping a hand to his ear as he stared at the ceiling above fearfully. James sat back with a smug grin.

Sirius was not to be outdone. "Shrapnel," he explained as he scooped peas into his spoon. The peas, however, did not behave as satisfactorily when airborne as the chicken had, instead scattering every which-way, raining down on all the students within a six-foot range.

Cormac McLaggen jumped to his feet as peas fell into his lap. "Who was that?!"

"Food fight!" Colin Creevey cheered.

Fred and George Weasley both turned at once to dump a vat of pumpkin juice over Lee Jordan's head. Lee yelped in surprise, firing a handful of steak-and-kidney pie back in return. Unfortunately he missed, instead hitting a Hufflepuff girl in the back of the head. She spun around, annoyed, countering the blow with a baked potato in his face. Presently the air was thick with flying food items. James and Sirius sat back-to-back in the thick of it, picking off their opponents with calculated precision.

Hermione squeaked as she ducked to avoid a ham sandwich missile. "This is madness!"

"This is great!" Ron crowed, lobbing a gravy boat in Dean Thomas's direction while dodging a lump of chicken casserole.

"But the teachers," Hermione wailed, diving under the table as sausages flew with deadly accuracy, "What will the teachers think?"

Harry peeked over the edge of the table just long enough to see Dumbledore, grinning widely, aim a roll in Professor McGonagall's direction. "I don't think you'll have to worry about them..."

"This is dreadful," Hermione insisted. "As there's obviously no chance of our finishing lunch in peace, I'm leaving before this place turns into a madhouse! I'm going to the library!"

Harry just nodded, a bit preoccupied with chucking a sizable blob of Yorkshire pudding at the back of Vincent Crabbe's head.

James took out a couple fifth-years with a volley of rapid-fire carrot sticks. "How's it going back there, Officer Padfoot?" he called over his shoulder.

Sirius wiped mustard from above his eye. "Took a hit to the cranium, but damage doesn't seem to be too critical," he replied, bringing down a prefect with a well-aimed lamb chop.

"I didn't know Professor Flitwick was so handy with his sprouts," James commented, eyeing the teachers' table.

"I have to say, Professor McGonagall has a pretty good throwing arm for her age," Sirius remarked.

A round of purple firecrackers exploding from Professor Dumbledore's wand finally plunged the Great Hall into silence. "Well, that was exciting, wasn't it?" Dumbledore announced cheerfully; tomato dripped from his cheek. Waving his wand at the table before him, he cleared it of food stains. "Now how about we all get cleaned up before our classes this afternoon?"

Agreeably, the students began to file out of the Great Hall while the teachers, looking flushed and a bit embarrassed, walked around, clearing things up. James turned to Sirius with a grin, dusting bread crumbs from his shoulder.

"Did that cure your boredom?" Sirius questioned as they trailed after the rest of the students.

"Until next time," James grinned. "The Marauders totally crushed everyone." Suddenly he frowned. "Hey… have you seen Moony in a while?"

* * *

Hermione entered the library and took a deep breath, taking in her favorite smell in the entire universe- books.

 _Although 'books' in itself is a rather broad term to use,_ she thought to herself. More specifically, she liked the smell of the glue that bound the spine together, the dust that blew out from the pages when one flipped them fast enough, and the slightly musty odor of the older volumes yellowed by age. She ran her fingertips along the shelves, reveling in the smooth, papery feel of the books' spines, contemplating for what she deemed a suitable amount of time before selecting a thick brown hardback titled _Quill Sharpeners Through the Ages- An Illustrated Guide_ that looked promising. Lugging the heavy book over to her favorite reading table by the window, she prepared to educate herself on the rich history of quill sharpeners.

Only there was somebody already at the table. A boy lay amongst a multitude of books strewn across the table; he appeared to have fallen asleep in his chair on top of the rather sizable _Notable Magical Names of Our Time._ Hermione set her book down on the corner of the table in disgust, and leaned over to poke the boy in the arm. He woke with a start, knocking the book into his lap.

"Excuse me, but you're taking up all the room at this table," Hermione said crossly.

The boy stared at her, then at the books scattered across the table, and pushed his sleep-flattened hair out of his eyes; Hermione noted curiously that it was streaked with grey. "S-sorry-sorry!" he stammered, and began gathering the books towards himself hurriedly.

"It's all right," she said hastily, "I only wanted to sit here, that's all." Hermione leaned across the table to offer her hand. "I'm Hermione Granger, by the way."

"Remus Lupin," the boy shook it, smiling nervously, and pushed his hair out of his eyes again. His hand was rough and lined in Hermione's, and when she glanced down at it, she saw in surprise that it was criss-crossed with jagged scars.

He seemed to sense her astonishment, and quickly pulled his hand out of her grasp, placing it firmly in his lap. "So, _Quill Sharpeners Through the Ages_ , huh?" he said, eyeing the book she had placed before her.

"Yes," Hermione said, "I thought it looked interesting. Have you read it?"

"No," Remus shook his head. "But maybe I should try it, if you think it's good." His smile this time was friendly, but as Hermione looked closer, she couldn't help but see that his face was scarred as well. She knew it wasn't polite to stare, but she couldn't help but wonder how on earth a young boy could get so many injuries like that. "What are… what are you here for?" she blurted out, desperate to make the atmosphere a bit less awkward.

"Oh…" His eyes traveled to the book in his lap. "Research," he said vaguely.

"Do you come here often?" Hermione felt a brief glimmer of hope that she wasn't the only one.

But the boy was shaking his head. "Not often," he said, almost apologetically. "I usually don't have much time for reading."

"So you didn't go to lunch just so you could come here?" Could it possibly be that there was someone else in this entire school who loved books as much as Hermione did? Who was willing to give up meals in order to find the time to read?

"I… I wasn't hungry," Remus mumbled, suddenly extremely interested in his hands resting in his lap.

"Oh."

Hermione didn't know what to say, so she opened her book and began reading. After a moment, Remus began to do so as well. As he read, Hermione continued to sneak covert glances up at him. His eyes were a light, cheerful blue, like the sky on a spring morning, but they were swollen and bloodshot, as though he had gotten little sleep lately. Indeed, he looked exhausted; Hermione didn't blame him for stealing a nap earlier. Dark circles hung under his eyes, and his face had a pale, peaked look about it. Preoccupied, she turned the page to her book without looking at it.

"Ow!"

Remus looked up in alarm as Hermione stuck her finger in her mouth, wincing. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine," Hermione mumbled, "Just a papercut."

"Oooh," Remus made a face in sympathy. "Wait-" he bent underneath the table to dig around in his bag, before drawing out a tiny glass vial. "Let me see your hand."

She obeyed and he took it gently, carefully upending the vial over her forefinger, so that a single drop of the liquid inside fell onto it. The painful smarting faded, and disappeared.

Hermione looked up. "What is that?"

"Madam Pomfrey gave it to me," Remus said, stashing the bottle safely inside his bag again. "It really helps with the stinging." His eyes darted to his hands clasped before him and swiftly jumped back to Hermione.

Hermione stared at his hands. "If I might ask-"

"Papercuts." Remus said, much too quickly. "I mean-uh-"

"You mean… those… are from papercuts?" Hermione said incredulously. "Good gracious."

"Yes, I um… get a little over-enthusiastic when I read," Remus laughed a little nervously. As though to prove his point, he fumbled hastily with a page in his book. There was a ripping sound, and Remus jumped in surprise, having accidently torn the very corner of the page in his haste. Before either of them could do anything, Madam Pince was looming over them.

"BLATANT VANDALISM! DISRESPECT OF LIBRARY PROPERTY! OUT! OUT, I SAY!" With eyes blazing and nostrils flaring, she took both of them by the collars and dragged them outside, where she threw them out into the hallway. "AND DON'T COME BACK!"

Hermione remained on the marble floor for a moment, too shocked to move. Finally she sat up.

"Well!" she exclaimed, turning to Remus. "That was unexpected. I have to say, I've never been thrown out of the library before." She brushed her disheveled bangs out of her eyes. "Now we won't be able to go in until much later, when she's calmed down," she said ruefully. Oh, well. At least she'd managed to grab _Quill Sharpeners Through the Ages_ before they'd been thrown out, so she wasn't completely devoid of things to read.

"Yeah…" Remus gathered up his things hurriedly.

"Do you want to go to the Gryffindor common room to read for a bit?" Hermione suggested.

"Before we have to go back to class?"

"No, I just remembered- I have to go now," Remus backed away. "Sorry. It was… it was nice meeting you, Hermione." With that, he spun around and ran down the hallway.

"Wait!" But he didn't. She watched his retreating figure until he turned a corner and was gone.

Hermione stared at her shoes. "Oh. Okay," she tucked her bushy hair behind her ear, swallowing her disappointment. "Well, it's a nice day," she peered out the window. "I guess I could go read outside..."

* * *

James and Sirius had barely gotten a few steps out of the Great Hall before a familiar mane of wavy red swooped in on them, and James was slammed against the wall.

"All right. What have you done with him?" Lily's voice hissed in his ear. "I know you're responsible for this somehow."

James hurried to recover from his surprise. "Responsible for what? _Who_?"

"Severus!" Lily shook him impatiently. "I haven't seen him _once_ today, even when we had Transfiguration with the Slytherins. I couldn't find him in the Great Hall. Come to think of it, I haven't seen him since we _got_ here! So what have you done with him? Do you have him locked up in the dungeon somewhere? Tied to the staircase? Hanging by his ankle in the bathrooms?"

"Oooh, that would be funny," James grinned at Sirius over her shoulder.

Lily shook him again. "Shut up! Where is he?"

"Relax, Evans," James said, annoyed. "We haven't done anything with little Snivellus. We ourselves were wondering why he has yet to show his ugly face."

"Don't call him that," Lily snapped. She took James by the upper arm and began dragging him along with her; they were going to be late for Potions.

"Ugly or Snivellus?" James queried as they trotted down the stairs to the dungeons. "Because-"

"Shut _up!_ " Lily's green eyes blazed, and James thought it prudent to obey, for the moment at least. "If you've got him locked away in a closet somewhere because of your idea of some sick joke, I swear I'm going to-"

James was curious to know what Lily was threatening to do to him, but at that moment they entered the Potions classroom. The man scribbling something on the blackboard turned around- and James stopped dead. It was Severus Snape.

 _Impossible_ , a voice whispered inside his head weakly. _This is impossible_. He was hallucinating. What was _in_ that steak and kidney pie at lunch? But beside him, Lily had frozen as well, her mouth half-open in shock.

 _This is impossible_. Yet the tall, sallow man standing before them was most certainly James's greasy-haired, hook-nosed nemesis of last school year. But it couldn't be- what kind of growth spurt could turn a weedy twelve-year-old boy into a grown man over the course of a single summer? James's mind raced, each explanation more outlandish than the next. Then he noticed something else strange: the man was staring at them in equal shock. _So it really_ is _Snape_. That ruled out the theory of a look-alike uncle or something. He recognized them, it was certain, but what was stranger was that the look on his face was as though he hadn't been expecting them. At all. Hadn't he gone to school with the bunch of them only last year? What had he been hoping, that James had been killed in a Quidditch accident during the summer?

But then- surely this _couldn't_ be the same Snivellus who was schoolmates with James and Sirius only last year? Surely this was a different Severus Snape- Merlin's beard, this Snape was a _grown man_ , after all! James suddenly noticed the piece of chalk still hovering in the man's raised hand- he was a _teacher!_ When...? Who...? _How?!_ James felt a bit sick as questions whirled around his head in a dizzying storm. There was definitely something crazy going here for sure.

Snape was the first to recover. His wide eyes narrowed, his face sliding smoothly into an expressionless mask. "Class has already begun. Ten points from Gryffindor for each of you four," he purred, as Remus ran up to join them, panting. James scowled, y _ep, that's definitely the same old Snivellus_ , but was too disoriented to come up with a clever reply, so he just sat down in one of the remaining seats with an angry huff. He watched Snape maneuver around the blackboard with half-slit eyes. Snape continued on with the lesson as though nothing had happened, but James would have given anything to know what sort of thoughts were spinning wildly around inside the man's head at that very moment.

He wondered if they were anywhere near as baffling as his own.

* * *

Harry hadn't even noticed that Hermione was missing until he heard the rapid footsteps and turned to see her running into the classroom, her bushy hair a wild, tangled mess.

"And _another_ ten points from Gryffindor. My my, what a _disheartening_ start for Gryffindor this year," Professor Snape said silkily. There were several groans of dismay, and not a few accusatory glares followed Hermione as she made her way across the classroom. Even as she hurried to take the seat behind Harry, several students were still shooting her resentful looks from across the room. Harry thought this unfair to Hermione, as James and his friends had cost them four times as many house points. He could hear her behind him throughout the rest of the class, breathing heavily. He wanted to turn around to give her a reassuring look or something, but Snape seemed to be in a more irritable mood than usual for some reason, and Harry decided he shouldn't risk it.

Once Potions class had ended, however, he hurriedly stuffed his books back into his bag and turned to her. "Hermione-" He took a step back in surprise. Instead of the mortified flush and miserable hang of her head he had been expecting, Hermione's eyes were lit with something like hysteria as she snatched his arm.

"Harry- no, we can't talk here- come on!"

"W-what?" Harry could only stammer stupidly as his friend dragged him out of the dungeons.

"Hey, wait for me!" Ron slung his book bag over his shoulder and pelted after them, but Hermione ignored him completely.

"Harry! You've got to- we've got to- I mean- don't know what to do-" she babbled uncontrollably, clutching at Harry.

"Whoa, slow down!" Harry was becoming increasingly alarmed. And since when did Hermione get into a habit of grabbing him by the collar and shaking him? "I can't understand you when you're talking so fast!"

Hermione gulped in a deep breath, holding it as though she were about to dive underwater. She let it all out in a burst, along with, "Harry, they've- they've got Neville!"

* * *

 **On that note... who's up for some reviews? Pretty please with a cherry on top? Except I don't like cherries. With... chocolate on top? _And whipped cream?_**


	8. Part 1--Chapter 7: Death Eaters

**Organized Chaos**

 **Part 1**

 **Chapter 7: Death Eaters**

* * *

"Alright Hermione, just calm down for a bit. _Who_ has got Neville? And… why?" Harry wondered if Hermione had finally gone over the edge. Had the stress of studying brought this upon her? No, that didn't make sense- they'd only been at school for a single day! And even so, the homework they'd gathered from their first day of classes was really not that bad. Well, unless you counted Potions; but then again, Snape always gave them mountains of homework anyway.

Hermione gulped in a shuddering breath, visibly struggling to pull herself together. "Right. They've got Neville," she repeated, though in a much calmer tone now.

" _Who's_ got Neville, Hermione?" Harry groaned. Draco and his cronies? What did they plan to do with him, hang him upside-down from the ceiling? Lock him in the boys' lavatory? Throw his books down the Grand Staircase? Now that _would_ be just plain cruel; Harry tried to picture poor Neville descending the 142 staircases to retrieve his textbooks, and felt a stab of sympathy.

"The Death Eaters!" Hermione waved her arms wildly.

 _Death... Eaters?_ Was that some new club name Draco and his gang were calling themselves now?

But Ron was staring at Hermione in astonishment. "Really Hermione, I never thought… I mean, _I_ might make a joke like that, but _you?_ Besides, if you're going to make a joke, you'd better make sure we both know what it's about first. Just look at Harry! He hasn't a clue what you're talking about."

"Death Eaters?" Harry finally repeated.

"Yeah," Ron turned from staring incredulously at Hermione to face Harry. "Dad says they were the biggest supporters of _You-Know-Who_ , his inner circle. Really dark witches and wizards. They were the ones who did all the dirty work for You-Know-Who, murdering and torturing people during the Great Wizarding War." He shook his head, turning back to Hermione. "I think Hermione was trying to make a joke, but I don't see how it's funny at all. Lots of good witches and wizards died because of those people."

Hermione gave a high-pitched giggle that was so unHermione-ish that now even Harry turned to stare at her in bewilderment. "It's not a joke!" Hermione insisted. "The Death Eaters have Neville, and they're going to torture him to get you to come rescue him!"

There was an awkward silence.

"Uh… what?"

"That's impossible," Ron finally retorted, attempting to bring some logic into the conversation. "They're all locked up in Azkaban."

"No they're not!" Again, Hermione's wail sounded more like a hysterical laugh to Harry.

"Okay, start from the very beginning," Harry waved a hand impatiently. "When did you first discover that these… uh… Death… Eaters… had captured Neville?"

"I had gone outside, because I had this really good book I'd found at the library, _Quill Sharpeners Through the Ages_ , and I wanted to read it somewhere quiet."

" _Quill Sharpeners Through the Ages_?!" Ron snorted. "A _really good book?_ Are you mad?!"

Hermione shot him a glare before continuing. "Then I decided to take a walk, a short one, before Potions class. As I was out walking by the greenhouses, I heard voices, adult voices, talking very quietly and urgently. They were threatening somebody, threatening him to talk or they'd use the Cruciatus Curse on him."

" _Cruciatus?"_ Ron repeated in disbelief. "But that's one of the three Unforgivable Curses! You can go to Azkaban for just performing _one_ of them!"

Hermione nodded earnestly. "That was when I first realized something was really wrong. And when the boy started talking- although he was more crying than anything- I realized it was Neville! And they started talking about you, Harry, and how they knew he was one of your friends, and that they were going to use him to get you. And I-I-I got so scared, so I ran the whole way to Potions… and found you."

"Did they see you running away?" Ron demanded.

"I-I don't know, it all happened so fast-"

"What are we standing around here talking for?!" Harry burst out. "We have to tell Dumbledore!"

"NO!"

Hermione's exclamation was so passionate that Harry took an uncertain step backwards. "Don't you see, Harry?" she pleaded, wringing her hands. " _They've got Neville!_ And they'll kill him if they find out we know what they're planning! We _can't_ tell Dumbledore! We can't tell _anyone!"_

"What?" Harry didn't know what to say. "But surely Professor Dumbledore would know how to handle this much better than we could- I mean, what can a bunch of kids like us do? If what Ron says about them being the darkest witches and wizards there ever were, what can we do against them?"

"Remember saving the Sorcerer's Stone?" Hermione insisted. "None of the teachers believed us when we told them Snape was going to steal it!"

"Except it wasn't Snape, it was Professor Quirrell," Ron put in.

"That's beside the point!" Hermione barked. "The point is- we ended up having to save the Stone by ourselves! None of the adults would believe us. Harry..." she took a deep breath, and looked Harry directly in the eye, before speaking the next sentence slowly and urgently.

"... _We're on our own._ "

Harry caught his breath sharply, but he knew that what Hermione said was true. No one could help them rescue Neville. They had to do it themselves.

"Right," he said abruptly. "So how're we going to do this?"

"What?" This time it was Ron's turn to splutter. "So that's it? We're just going to go rescue Neville? _By ourselves?_ "

"We've done it before, Ron," Harry said.

"Yeah, but if I remember correctly, I got clubbed unconscious by a massive killer chess piece, and you didn't come out too healthy-looking yourself!"

"Ron, how _could_ you!" Hermione moaned. "We're here trying to figure out how to rescue Neville from certain death, and all you're concerned about is your own personal well-being!"

"Hey, that's _not_ what I meant-" Ron exclaimed, but Harry cut him off.

"You don't have to come with us, Ron," Harry said quietly. " But this is all my fault. Poor Neville is being tortured and could be killed, all because of me. I at least owe it to him to _try_ to rescue him."

"WHO SAID I WASN'T COMING!" Ron suddenly roared. "ALL I'M TRYING TO DO IS BEAT SOME COMMON SENSE INTO THIS ILL-FATED TRIO- WHICH IS USUALLY _HER_ JOB!" He jabbed an accusatory forefinger in Hermione's direction. "SOMEBODY'S GOT TO AT LEAST TRY TO STOP US FROM GETTING OURSELVES KILLED! I ABSOLUTELY SUCK AT THE JOB, WHICH IS _WHY_ IT'S USUALLY _HERS!"_ He glared at Hermione, as though it were all her fault she was going along with the plan willingly.

Harry struck his hands together briskly. "Right then, since we're all on board now, we should get going."

"Not now!" Hermione urged. "We'll have to wait until after classes, when there's less of a chance of someone noticing us sneaking out."

Harry didn't know if he could bear the remaining three hours of class with the thought of Neville with a bunch of murderers on his mind, but he knew Hermione was right. They would have to wait. And in the meantime, plan their mission.

"All right then, we'll wait. But straight away after dinner tonight, we meet in the girls' lavatory on the second floor. Got it?" Ron and Hermione nodded.

"Now we'd better get on to History of Magic before we're late to class," Hermione warned.

"This is going to be the longest afternoon ever," Ron moaned. "And I'm already so nervous that I won't be able to sleep in HM. I'll actually have to listen to the lecture while Professor Binns bores all of our brains out."

Yet again, Hermione gave a strange, high-pitched giggle that was so unlike herself that Harry paused. Then she slapped a hand over her mouth and wacked Ron with her Arithmancy book. It was a rather heavy book, and made a satisfying _thunk_ to accompany Ron's yelp. "You idiot! You're not supposed to _sleep_ in class at all!"

* * *

Several agonizing hours later, Harry and Ron hurried to the girls' lavatory, panting after having run the entire way from the Great Hall. Hermione was already there, arms crossed over her chest.

"You two took forever!" she complained. "Where've you been?"

"She's very angry," Moaning Myrtle surfaced out of a nearby cubicle with a smug look. "She's been pacing around and muttering things to herself."

"Sorry," Harry gasped, "We met up with Colin Creevey again. He wanted to know where we were going, and we only just managed to shake him. We ran the whole way here."

Moaning Myrtle giggled. "This bathroom is quite exciting, you know. Everybody comes here to plot all their evil schemes. Why, just the other day, I had Fred and George Weasley trying to plan a jinx that was going to turn everyone who entered through the Slytherin common room door purple."

"What?" Hermione exclaimed to Harry, pointedly ignoring the ghost. "You shouldn't have done that, now you'll seem even more suspicious!"

"...And last year," Myrtle continued, a bit louder, "There were these girls testing out different beauty charms on themselves…"

"Well, what else were we supposed to do?" Ron demanded peevishly. "Let the little creep follow us here?"

"...And the year before _that_ , Cormac McLaggen was in here brewing a potion, apparently he's got terrible acne..."

"Never mind that," Harry interrupted; now was not the best of times for the two to get into another argument. "I brought my invisibility cloak."

Hermione's eyes lit up. "Great idea, Harry!"

"Doesn't he _always_ bring his cloak?" Ron rolled his eyes.

"Come on, let's hurry. It's nearly dark," Harry said impatiently, flinging the cloak over his shoulders. Ron and Hermione crowded underneath.

"Wait- where are we going?"

"To the greenhouses! To look around."

"Isn't it lucky how the three of us can fit under here?"

"Speak for yourself- ow, Harry! Get off my toe!"

"Sorry- oops-"

"Ah, my eye! You just stuck your elbow in my eye!"

"I'm sorry, alright? It takes a lot of work to steer this thing!"

With a bit of maneuvering, the trio managed to squeeze through the door out into the hallway.

"Well, goodbye to you too," Moaning Myrtle called sulkily. "And I promise not to tell anyone about your secrets. Which I never do. Not that you'd appreciate it, anyway."

* * *

Colin Creevey trotted through the corridors, confused. Harry had yelled something about finishing homework before he'd run out of the Great Hall. Yet when Colin checked, he hadn't been in the Gryffindor common room. Perhaps he was in his dorm?

"Watcha doing?"

Colin turned to see a pair of soft brown eyes contemplating him curiously. The girl's red hair was pinned out of her face by a green clip, but she still pushed her hair behind her ear in an inquisitive gesture.

"Ohhh," Colin laughed awkwardly, feeling a bit stupid. "Just looking for Harry Potter. I'd like to ask him to sign this picture of us I just had developed. For my dad. He's really interested in all things wizard, so I thought I'd send him something."

The girl seemed to blush when he mentioned Harry's name. "Me too," she admitted softly, then gasped. "I mean- looking for Harry Potter, not sending my Da wizard things. I MEAN- I'm not looking for Harry, I'm looking for my brother! Who's _with_ Harry!" She covered her eyes with her hand, her face as bright red as her hair.

Colin giggled. "Your brother's the red-haired kid, right? The one with the freckles?"

Without removing her hand, the girl nodded.

"Cool! So you have an inside man to Harry," Colin said enviously. "A genuine reason to stalk him around. Lucky."

The girl shook her head. "Not really. He never even notices me." She rubbed her arm. "I'm just 'Ron's little sister' to him."

"You're in my year, aren't you?" Colin cocked his head to the side. "I think I saw you at the Sorting Ceremony."

"Yeah, I'm Ginny Weasley." The girl put out her hand to shake, and Colin took it, pumping it up and down enthusiastically.

"Colin Creevey. Nice to meet you!"

There was an awkward silence.

"Well, Ginny?" Colin finally broke it, crossing his arms. "How are we going to fix this dilemma? Both of us need to find Harry Potter, but neither of us seem to have a clue where he is."

Ginny blushed again. "I don't need to find Harry," she stammered. "I just need to find him… to find my brother. That's all."

"Uh huh. Whatever." Colin suppressed his smirk. _Now is a time to be serious_ , he told himself. "We have to think. If we were Harry Potter, where would we be?"

"In trouble," Ginny answered truthfully. "He always seems to have a knack for it."

"Hm…" Colin thought for a minute. "Where's a good place to get into trouble, then?"

"The third floor," Ginny said after a moment. "Although, since the Sorcerer's Stone is gone, I don't think it's off-limits to students anymore."

"No, I but like the way you're thinking," Colin encouraged her. "That's a good idea."

As they passed by the second-floor girls' lavatory, they heard someone moaning pitifully through the door, which was cracked open.

"Who's that?"

"I dunno… people are always telling me not to use this restroom, and that it's been unused for years." Ginny pushed open the door just enough to poke her head in cautiously. "Hello?"

A pouty-looking ghost girl peered out from underneath one of the stalls. "What? More of you? And I suppose you've come to ask where Harry and his friends went, not to come comfort me in my misery." The girl turned over to sweep her head back dramatically.

Colin and Ginny shared a stunned look. "Well, yeah, if you could tell us where they went, we'd be very grateful," Ginny said.

The ghost gave a heaving sigh. "I knew it. You know, I really _should_ betray all of his secrets for how he's treated me," she said mournfully. "But because of my undying love for him, my lips remain sealed forever." She made a mime of locking her lips and flushing the key down a toilet.

"Your un _dying_ love…?" Colin snorted. "For who? Harry?"

The girl wailed and dove into the next cubicle. "How insensitive! How rude! How inconsiderate!" The rest of her words were drowned out by a considerable amount of bubbling from inside the U-bend of that particular toilet.

"Oh, do come out," Ginny pleaded, shooting Colin a stern look. "We're sorry for insulting you."

"Very sorry," Colin added cheerfully, destroying any sincerity that might have been conveyed by Ginny's apology.

Yet the ghost girl poked her head out of the toilet anyway. She sniffed loudly. "You are?"

"Yes," Ginny said, and Colin nodded enthusiastically.

"I'm sorry you're so upset," he continued. "Although I don't see why. I'd think living in a toilet would be fun!"

"You think?" The girl's eyes lit up. "Well, it does have its perks… what with the privacy and all, it's like having my very own palace."

"That's totally awesome," Colin agreed eagerly. "And I like your ponytails, by the way."

"Oh!" The girl blushed, or the ghost equivalent of blushed, which was turning a darker shade of grey at the cheeks. "Well, you know, I've always hated them, being stuck with them for the past 50 years…"

"You shouldn't," Colin said. "You look good in them."

"Oh!" The girl looked stunned. "That's… that's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me…" And she burst into huge, sloppy tears.

"Don't cry!" Colin exclaimed, horrified. "What did I say?!"

"Th-they went th-that way," the ghost mrely hiccuped violently, pointing. "Th-they said something ab-bout the g-greenhouses…"

Ginny looked at Colin. "The greenhouses? It's nearly dark, what do they want over there?"

"It's certainly suspicious for sure," Colin mused. He glanced up at the ghost girl. "Thanks for your help! Oh! I don't even know your name," he said apologetically.

The girl continued to sob uncontrollably. "It's Myrtle," she wailed. "But people call me Moaning Myrtle."

"That's not a very nice name to call someone," Colin frowned thoughtfully.

"No, it isn't," Moaning Myrtle agreed.

"Come on Colin, we've got to find Harry and Ron!" Ginny pulled at his arm.

"Right! Let's go. Bye, Myrtle! See you later!"

" _See you_ …" Moaning Myrtle repeated, and fell into a fresh wave of tears.

Ginny yanked Colin's arm, dragging him out of the lavatory before they both drowned.

* * *

Remus Lupin followed dutifully after Madam Pomphrey down the dark passageway, letting his feet wander the familiar path without paying much attention. Why had he run away from Hermione? Why hadn't he waited a few more minutes, at least long enough to come up with a better excuse than " _I've got to go"_? Now she was going to think he was avoiding her. And indeed, it would have been better if he'd just avoided her in the first place. He couldn't forget the look of hurt in her eyes when he had run off. The disappointment.

 _This is why you don't have any friends, Remus Lupin_ , he told himself. _Because you're a coward. You can't even handle a simple conversation in the library._

He stopped. No. That wasn't true at all. How could he have forgotten? He had two perfectly wonderful friends. He still couldn't believe how lucky he was to have them. If it weren't for James and Sirius, Hogwarts would have been less of a terrifying-yet-exciting-at-the-same-time adventure, and more of a living nightmare.

It was only when he was around James and Sirius that Remus could relax. Be himself. Feel accepted. Sometimes, when he was caught up in the fun of the moment, he could almost forget that he wasn't a normal kid.

It was more than Remus could have hoped for in life in all of his wildest dreams.

The sound of Madam Pomphrey's voice brought him out of his thoughts. "Here you are," she said briskly.

Remus stared up at it. The trapdoor. He hated it. Not the trapdoor itself, but what it personified. The secrecy. The precautions. The fear.

Madam Pomphrey mistook his hesitancy for apprehension, and her tone of voice softened significantly. "It'll be over soon enough," she comforted. "And I'll be right here to get you in the morning." Something like pity flickered in her eyes for a moment.

Their eyes were always like that. It was always that, or fear.

More often fear.

"I'm fine," Remus growled. He ran his tongue along his dry lips. Digging around in his pockets, he pulled out his wand, handing it over to the school nurse. Since he wouldn't be needing it. It might get snapped, anyway.

Madam Pomphrey took it, stowing it safely away into her robes. Then she cleared her throat awkwardly. "Well. It's almost time. Do you need help?" Her eyes lifted, indicating the trapdoor above them.

"No, thank you," Remus said politely. _Why would she ask that?_ She'd been bringing him here ever since his first year at Hogwarts. Awkward silence filler, Remus concluded. That was a favorite. It was like once they found out he was different, people just didn't know how to talk to him anymore.

Without another word, Remus hoisted himself up through the trapdoor, into the building above. The wooden floor moaned in protest, but other than that it was silence, except for the sound of Remus's own breathing, which felt harsh and unnaturally loud in his ears. The last bits of the day's sunlight struggled to pierce through the tattered curtains, leaving the structure in near darkness. Nightime was just around the corner.

Remus surveyed the decimated area. The slashed and mutilated sofa. The sagging bed, its wooden frame disfigured and slanted precariously. The scarred walls and flooring. All his doing. He glanced down at the dark red stain by his foot, long-since dried and forgotten, as though it were merely a botched coloring of the wood. His also. The bedsheets too were splattered with dull crimson, nearly brown with age. The curtains at the window floated upward in a soft breeze from outside, like lost spirits from some dark demon world. If Remus listened carefully to the moaning of the entire structure as it rocked, it was almost as though the ghosts were wailing. He realized he was shivering.

 _Stupid. It's just an old shack. There are no monsters here._

 _No monsters… except for the one standing by the trapdoor. Wishing he were anywhere else but here._

A loud creak of wood, like a pistol shot in a quiet forest. Remus stiffened.

 _Stop it. It's just your nerves. There's no one here._

Yet as he watched, the shadows seemed to rise, to shift in their positions. Then came the soft tapping, irregular and uncertain. Footsteps. Remus's hand reached for his side, for the wand he already knew wasn't there.

 _Shadows don't have footsteps._

The thought had just surfaced in Remus's brain, foreign and unprocessed, when the hands reached out from behind, choking him. Restraining him. Even as he moved to call out, to fight against them, the sharp tip of a wand prodded him in the temple, and an unfamiliar voice muttered something in his ear. Immediately Remus lost consciousness, crumpling to his knees. He was falling, falling, falling, into darkness, and it rose up to claim him with a dreadful roar.

* * *

"Right this way." Professor McGonagall pressed her lips together in a firm, tight line as James and Sirius followed her begrudgingly.

"Wonder what she's going to have us do this time," James whispered to his best mate.

"Probably make us write lines on the blackboard again," Sirius muttered. "You know, like, 'I will not be disrespectful in class', or something like that."

"Nah, I doubt it. Not after what happened last time."

Sirius chuckled. "Aw, but that was funny."

James grinned at him. "Who knew bewitching the chalk to do it for you would have just entertaining results?"

She'll probably make us scrape the Drooble's Bubblegum off all the bottoms of the benches in the Great Hall," Sirius said dully. " _Without_ magic."

"Doesn't look like it," James said, as they descended a flight of stairs. "Looks like we're going to the dungeons."

"What does she want down here?" Sirius complained. "I hate it down here. All cold and lifeless. Reminds me of my house."

"Chain us to the wall?" James suggested.

"Nah, that sounds like something Filch'd do, but not McGonagall. She'd be more likely to make us polish the torch holders or something."

The two remained clueless, until the Professor halted in front of the Potions classroom.

"What…?" James began, but at that moment, the door opened, and Snape stepped out.

"Ah, there you are, Severus." Professor McGonagall said, turning to indicate the two boys behind here. "Here they are."

"Wait- _what?_ " James repeated, his mouth falling open in shock.

"You will be doing detention with Professor Snape tonight, Mr. Potter and Black," Professor McGonagall said crisply.

"WHAT?!" James and Sirius yelped simultaneously.

"The Professor has most generously volunteered to take you off my hands for the evening," McGonagall eyed them disapprovingly.

"No way! We can't- you can't let him do this!" James spluttered.

"He'll _murder_ us!" Sirius exclaimed.

"And find a nice excuse to hide the bodies!" James nodded vigorously.

"What _ever_ are you two talking about?" Professor McGonagall snapped. "What complete and utter nonsense."

"It's true, Professor!" Sirius insisted.

"Honest, if you leave us here it'll be the last time you ever saw us alive!" James begged. " _Please_ don't leave us alone with him! We'll do _anything_! Please let us write lines, like good students!"

"Without magic!" Sirius added. "Or tricks of any sort!"

"Stop this nonsense this instant!" Professor McGonagall said sharply. "What rubbish. Professor Snape was kind enough to take you off my hands for the night, and I will be hearing none of this. You will be doing detention with him, and that is _final!_ " In a whirl of billowing green robes, the Gryffindor Head of House was gone.

Sirius and James turned to each other in horror, not daring to look up and catch Snape's eye.

Yet when the Potions teacher spoke, his voice was oddly devoid of emotion. "You will be sorting through potion ingredients, putting those that still have some use left in them in jars, while throwing away the rotten specimens. Come with me." Still staring at their feet, the two obeyed.

The work was relatively simple, something that surprised James. He'd expected something dreadful, like cleaning up bubotuber pus without gloves or something. Alright, sure, dried lionfish spines sure hurt when you accidently stabbed yourself in the palm with them, but James had been expecting something more dangerous, more… deadly.

"Hope he's not dumb enough to kill us after we told McGonagall all that," Sirius leaned over to mutter in James's ear. "Even with someone as slippery as Snivellus, he'd have a tough time worming his way out of that one."

"I dunno," James chanced a quick glance up in Snape's direction. The Potions teacher remained where he had been the entire time, sitting across the room with his hands folded at his chin. _Watching_ them. "I'd like to know just exactly _what_ is going through that guy's head right now."

"Probably daydreams about how to make our deaths slow and excruciatingly painful," Sirius said darkly.

Snape stood, and they both fell silent, but he was only getting up to go into the next room, leaving them alone in the ingredients cupboard. Sirius glanced over at James. "He's gone. Wanna risk it?"

James thought for a moment. "No."

"Me neither."

They busied themselves with their work, struggling to shake the feeling that Snape was still watching them, even from the other room. James picked up a wilted plant, stuffing it in a jar. Then he realized he recognized it. _Wolfsbane_. He wasn't sure why this realization gave him an uneasy feeling.

"Hey Padfoot, what day is it?" He addressed his friend casually, without looking up.

"I don't know," Sirius yawned. "They all run together really, when we're at Hogwarts."

"True." James studied the plant in his hand for a moment. "Have you been keeping up with the lunar calendar lately?"

"No."

"Neither have I," James admitted.

Sirius glanced up, raising his eyebrows. "You don't think it's… one of his nights, is it?"

"I don't know." James pursed his lips thoughtfully. "I suppose there's only one way to find out." He reached into his pocket, pulling out a slim, folded piece of parchment. He tapped it once with his wand. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he announced.

Ink bled across the parchment, merging to become legible words. _The Marauders' Map._ Sirius peered over James's shoulder as the two perused the spotted piece of parchment.

"I can't see him," Sirius said finally. "He must already be in the shack."

"Huh. And we're stuck here, doing detention," James growled. "I didn't even think about that."

"He'll just have to survive a couple hours without us," Sirius shrugged. "He's done it before. He's done it for years by himself, before we found out."

"Yeah." James said. Then he stopped. "Wait- 'for years'? But this is only our second year at school! So why does it feel like we've been here for way longer than that?"

Sirius paused too. "That _is_ odd. For some reason I have faint memories of stuff… stuff that hasn't even happened yet. Like our O.W.L.s. And- and other stuff. They're all mixed up, so it's hard to tell what's what." A shadow passed over his face. "And there's… weird stuff. Even… bad stuff. I don't know what it is, really, but it doesn't feel good."

James wasn't really listening. "Hey Padfoot, do you know who 'Bellatrix Lestrange' is?" James questioned, peering down at the map.

Sirius glanced up. "Well, I don't know any 'Lestranges', but I have a cousin named Bellatrix. Why?"

"Oh, it's just that that Harry Potter kid is walking with 'Ronald Weasley' and 'Bellatrix Lestrange'."

Sirius glanced over his shoulder. "Their dots sure are scrunched together. Mm, that's a little disturbing. Normal people _do not_ walk that close."

"Looks almost as if they're heading for the Willow," James remarked, watching the little black dots make their way to a larger black dot labeled _Whomping Willow_.

"Eh, it's probably a dare." Sirius sniffed. "'See who can get the closest to the trunk', that sort of dumb game. Bet we'll see them in the hospital wing later."

"I dunno, they're standing awfully close," James said. "Now they're walking right up to it. Doesn't look like they're getting bashed aside, or anything."

"They will in a minute," Sirius yawned. "Sometimes the old tree takes a bit of warming up."

Still, the tiny figures progressed to the tree. Then, to the pair's astonishment, they continued on past it.

"They know about the passageway," James turned to Sirius, wide-eyed.

"That's impossible," Sirius scoffed, but he clutched the map rather tightly. "There's no way they got past the tree."

"They're going down the passage," James repeated. "They're about to walk right off the map."

"Off of Hogwarts grounds," Sirius said softly.

"Moony," James felt a thrill of panic. "Don't they know about Moony?"

"He could be transforming any minute," Sirius said uncertainly.

"We have to stop them!" James jumped to his feet. "Come on, Padfoot!"

"Whoa, hang on!" Sirius exclaimed. "Have you forgotten we're in detention? With _Snape?_ "

"Padfoot, he could _kill_ them! You know he can't control himself when he's in that form!" James ran a hand through his hair. He didn't know what to _do_.

"Alright, alright." Sirius spun around, as though looking for something without really knowing what it was. "Have you got the Cloak?"

"Yeah." James fumbled with his pockets, clumsily yanking out the folded piece of silky cloth, shaking it open. He flung it over his and Sirius's shoulders, arranging it so that it covered their bodies entirely.

"Hurry up!"

"I'm trying- okay, let's go." The two stumbled out of the Potions classroom, into the dungeon hallways. They ran as fast as they could, their footsteps echoing painfully loud in the quiet, empty corridors.

"How long do you suppose it'll take for him to figure out we're gone?"

"Not long. Not long at all."

Behind them, unnoticed in their haste, Snape already stood in the doorway, listening. His smooth face gave nothing away of the wild storm of thoughts and feelings twisting around his head at that very moment, the ones that had plagued him ever since he'd laid eyes on those two.

And her. Ever since he had seen her.

Confliction. Grief. Fury. Bewildering confusion.

His expression still blank, Snape began to follow them.


	9. Part 1--Chapter 8: The Shrieking Shack

**Organized Chaos**

 **Part 1**

 **Chapter 8: In the Shrieking Shack**

* * *

Harry stumbled alongside Ron and Hermione as they made their way to the greenhouses. Reaching one end of the structure, they paused, listening.

"I don't hear anything," Ron muttered under his breath.

"They must have gone," Hermione attempted to peer down the other end, but it was difficult while trying to remain hidden underneath the Cloak. Harry was glad for the fact that it was nearly nightfall and there were few, if any, students out on the grounds at the moment.

Carefully, hesitantly, the three crept to the far end of the greenhouse. It was empty, but for a couple of exceptionally raucous crickets, who shut up immediately when the humans came too close.

A raspy croak by Harry's foot made him jump back in alarm. Then he caught sight of the toad.

"Trevor?" He picked up the creature. "Have you seen Neville? What's happened to him?" The toad simply goggled back at him, throat pulsating rhythmically. _Stupid, you can't ask a toad for directions._ He slipped Trevor into his pocket, so that he could return him to Neville.

 _If we ever find him._

"Look, tracks!" Hermione pointed to the grass excitedly.

"I don't see anything," Ron grumbled. It was true. Yes, the grass was trodden down in many areas, but Harry didn't see how that was helpful in any way. Of course it would be trampled; there had been quite a few students in and out of the place recently!

Still, Hermione seemed convinced that she could make something out of a few flattened blades of grass, and as she seemed to be the only one with any idea what they were doing, he was content to follow her.

Ron, however, continued to mutter things under his breath as they scuttled about, hunched over under the Cloak. It didn't help when Harry somehow managed to step on his toes every other step. "Look, it's already nearly dark. Nobody's going to be looking out here, anyway. So can we just ditch the invisibility for now? Besides, even if the Death Eaters won't be able to see us coming, they'll sure be able to hear us. We're making more noise than an angry dragon in a room full of potato chip bags!"

"Only because your enormous feet keep getting in the way," Hermione retorted crossly. "Fine. We'll be able to move faster that way, anyway." She flipped the silky cloth from over her head, and Ron did the same.

Harry hesitated. "All right," he said reluctantly. He carefully folded up the Cloak, and shoved it inside his pocket alongside Trevor, who croaked irritably at the intrusion. "But I do hope nobody sees us."

* * *

However, at the very moment he said this, Colin and Ginny were doing just that.

"Hey, there they are!" Colin squeaked. "Come on!'

"Wait!" Ginny caught the back of her classmate's robes, chewing the ends of her fiery red hair uncertainly. "Where are they going? And why are they sneaking around as though they're afraid of getting caught? What _are_ they doing?"

"I'll bet they're hiding from us," Colin said brightly.

"How come we couldn't see them before?" Ginny continued. "They weren't _that_ far ahead of us, were they? Surely we'd have seen them leaving the greenhouses!"

"All this thinking is making my head hurt," Colin complained. "Let's secretly follow them and jump out and surprise them! Wouldn't that be funny?"

"Were they _invisible?_ " Still Ginny would not let up. "But that doesn't make any sense. I don't think second-years know enough advanced magic to perform Concealing charms."

" _Whatever,_ " Colin drew out the word in a bored manner. "Let's just go!"

* * *

"Hermione, _where_ are we going?" Ron moaned. She'd determined that the trodden grass led down the mountainside, and the three had been slipping and sliding down towards the direction of Hagrid's cabin. "We keep getting farther and farther away from the castle. _Why_ did we ever decide this was a good idea in the first place?"

"Do you want Neville to die?" Hermione snapped, rounding on him.

"Of course not!" Ron threw out his arms. "Why is everyone suggesting I _do?_ That's sick!" He aimed a kick at the gravel by his foot, before apparently remembering that they were supposed to be on a stealth mission. "I just don't think it's _unreasonable_ to have a little concern for our own safety as well? I mean, we're not much help to Neville _dead_ , are we?"

"Shh!" Hermione waved a frantic hand for quiet. They had come up on an old willow tree, whose sagging, drooping branches barely brushed the ground as they fluttered about gently in the breeze. "For a second, I thought I heard voices. I think it was just the tree groaning."

"Weird tree," Harry commented.

"Ah, the footprints go around here," Hermione continued. "Around the tree. Down this bluff to that gravel path."

"That's heading off of Hogwarts grounds," Ron glanced around nervously. "I think that's the path to Hogsmeade. Second years aren't supposed to-"

"Oh, will you shut up!" Hermione turned to him harshly. Her voice was so rough and irritated that it almost sounded like another person's. "I'm tired of all of your complaining. You're so annoying!"

Ron flinched, and shut his mouth with a wounded expression. Harry leaned over to whisper in his ear. "Don't mind her. She must be under a lot of stress at the moment."

"Yeah, but she doesn't have to take it out on me, now does she?" Ron muttered back. "And what's up with her, anyway? She's not so easily ticked off. Usually she's the level-headed one of the bunch."

"True..." It _was_ unlike Hermione to be so jittery. However, Harry reasoned that they were all pretty jumpy at the moment. He himself felt like yelling at somebody, just to help ease the tension a bit.

Soon enough they came upon a long, dilapidated fence surrounding an even more so deteriorating old shack. The shack rocked back and forth in a musical cacophony of creaks, squeaks, and moans, though Harry thought for sure that the light breeze blowing at the moment was not nearly strong enough to cause this exaggerated movement.

"The Shrieking Shack," Ron nodded knowledgeably. "Fred and George told me about it. They say the villagers are terrified to go anywhere near it because it's haunted by really vicious ghosts that scream and make all sorts of awful noises."

Hermione ignored him, and climbed over the fence to continue on toward the swaying structure.

"Hermione!" Harry called after her, as loudly as he dared. "Why are we going this way?" Beside the fact that Harry wasn't too eager to meet any vengeful ghosts, the entire swaying structure didn't strike him as exactly _safe_.

"The prints lead here!" Hermione insisted, turning around. "They lead towards the shack!"

"No way!" Ron hissed back. "No one- not even Death Eaters-in their right mind would go inside that place."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I don't hear any ghosts. The place is as silent as a grave. Now come on! Unless you two are _scared…_ "

 _Silent as a grave?_ Harry didn't like that analogy at all. Of course he was scared. But he didn't want to admit it. "Come on, Ron." Harry swung a leg over the fence, into the field.

A thousand protests waited at the tip of Ron's tongue, but Harry saw them die one by one. Muttering furiously, Ron swung a lanky leg over also, stumbling a bit as his pants caught on a sliver of wood.

"Hermione, at least get under the Cloak!" Harry protested. He held it out, and Ron immediately huddled underneath it. Hermione hesitated, before sighing and doing the same. With the others' hot breath on each of their cheeks, they crept up to the rocking shack.

Hermione was right. The entire building was silent but for the steady creak of wood. Harry was afraid to breathe, for fear of being heard by whatever might be lurking within those dilapidated old walls. What would they find inside? Harry had to remind himself that ghosts couldn't hurt people.

 _Death Eaters, on the other hand…_

Hermione marched right up to the front door. " _Alohomora_ ," she whispered. The lock clicked smartly, and the door swung open.

"Wait, we can't just walk right in through the front door!" Ron hissed, panicked. "That's virtually the same as turning ourselves in!"

"What an interesting prospect," Hermione said coolly. She placed a finger to her lips for silence, then waved her wand once more. " _Expelliarmus._ "

Immediately, Harry's and Ron's wands flew to her hand obediently. Throwing the Cloak from her shoulders, she stepped back, flicking her wand sharply. " _Incarcerous!_ " Slender black cords appeared out of thin air, binding both boys in a spidery, immobilizing grip. Caught off balance, the two stumbled into one another, before dropping powerlessly to the ground like ninepins.

"Hermione?!"

Hermione grinned, an awful, giddy, un-Hermione-ish grin. She threw her head back, and her laughter shattered the silence, bouncing around the walls of the shack maniacally. "I've got him! I've got Potter!" An answering whoop came from the depths of the building, and several more figures hurried out of the shadows.

Harry was dumbfounded. "Hermione, what's going on?!"

"Stupid boy!" Hermione giggled in gleeful disbelief. "You still think I'm your bushy-haired bookworm friend? Haha! This is hilarious!"

"I _knew_ there was something wrong!" Ron burst out. "You- _Hermione-_ would have never insisted we do anything on our own! She's too much of a stickler for the rules! She would have gone to tell a teacher, even if it meant getting us into trouble! She would _never_ have let us go alone!"

"How perceptive of you," the fake Hermione yawned, pointing her wand at her own body in a lazy motion. " _Revelio_."

Hermione's features seemed to melt away, and her twelve-year-old body appeared to stretch. Her hair turned from a brown frizz into a mass of thick black curls, and her eyes became dark and heavy-lidded. A woman wearing all black leered at them from where "Hermione" had stood only seconds earlier, her chin lifted in a triumphant smile. Harry gaped at her, completely at a loss for words.

The woman bent down to take his chin in her hand, and Harry was unable to jerk away due to his bonds.

"Poor, poor, little Harry," the woman said mockingly. "You should have known." She grinned as her long black nails dug into Harry's chin. "There were many times I found it quite hard not to laugh out loud at your stupidity. Indeed, at times I did. Yet you were never suspicious in the slightest."

She leaned closer, so that their faces were mere inches from one another. "Dear little Harry, you simply have too much faith in your friends."

"Who are you?" Harry managed to force out.

"You haven't heard of me?" The woman straightened up, clearly outraged. "Why, I'm Bellatrix Lestrange! I'm feared everywhere as a powerful witch who isn't afraid to torture her victims once I'm done with them. How have you not heard of me? I'm practically the Dark Lord's right-hand woman!"

"' _Practically'_ is a bit much, don't you think, Lestrange?" A low voice drawled coldly. "The Dark Lord has no companions. Only servants." Harry turned his head with some difficulty to make out a tall man with long, nearly white blonde hair. Something about the man's voice and appearance were familiar to Harry…

"Malfoy," Ron spat. "Lucius Malfoy. So the rumors were true. You _are_ a Death Eater, through and through."

"Rumors?" Malfoy lifted one pale eyebrow. "I have served the Dark Lord since the very beginning. I have _never_ left his side." He put special emphasis on the word, as though daring them to deny it.

"After the war was over, your family said you didn't want anything to do with him!" Ron exclaimed. "My dad told me that you came crawling back to the Ministry for forgiveness after You-Know-Who was defeated!"

Malfoy's lip curled into a snarl, but Harry noticed that his face had gone a shade or two paler, and his eyes didn't seem to want to remain focused on Ron's for very long. "I don't know what you're talking about, _boy_. The Malfoys have always been the Dark Lord's most loyal followers, even after his apparent death. When he made his return so… so _suddenly_ , we were the first to celebrate. We… we were at his side in an instant." A muscle twitched in the man's jaw as he forced his lips into a cold smile.

"Voldemort's _dead_." Harry finally managed to find his voice again. He was shaking, whether from fear, cold, or fury, he didn't know.

An enormous, deranged grin split Bellatrix's pallid features. "You thought so, didn't you? _Everyone_ thought so. Well surprise, little Harry! He's back! And I will say, he is quite eager to meet you again." She tapped Harry on the nose tauntingly.

"That's a lie!" Ron shouted. "Vol- _You-Know-Who_ is gone! Harry defeated him- both times!"

"Dear, dear, I don't believe the Dark Lord would agree with that. I suppose you'll just have to tell him that yourself… _to his face_." Bellatrix appeared to be on an almost delirious level of glee. "Oh wait, I forgot. He only wants little Harry." She bent down and traced Ron's throat with her wand. "What were his exact words? Oh- _dispose of the rest at your leisure._ " She giggled, and licked her wand.

"Bring them inside," Malfoy waved a hand impatiently. "Before someone sees us." Several pairs of hands grasped Harry and Ron, dragging them inside the shack. Inside, the Death Eaters dragged them past shredded bedding, mutilated chairs, and deep gashes gouged into the wooden flooring of the building. Wallpaper drooped from the walls, scarred and torn to pieces by some violent act. Only after he'd been dragged across it did it occur to Harry's blurred, wildly operating subconscious that the large, dark stains spotting the floor could have been blood.

Their captors hauled them roughly up the stairs to the second floor and threw Harry and Ron onto a mangled bed, which was already occupied by three other bodies. Hermione, the _real_ Hermione, gasped, her eyes widening in dismay as they were dumped beside her and Neville, who squeaked through his gag at their entrance. Another boy, whom Harry recognized as one of James's friends, stared at them as well, his bright blue eyes mirroring Harry's own fear.

Except there was something different about the other boy's fear. His eyes had an almost wild, desperate glint to them. Harry stared back at him, reading the terror and pleading emanating from the other boy's gaze.

Harry swallowed hard.


End file.
